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cherienymphe · 5 years ago

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Best Friends Forever (Fratboy!Peter Parker x Reader)

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor What’s Old is New Again Challenge! This fic is inspired by #18, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf. – Lana Turner. Hope you all enjoy!

warnings: NON-CON, manipulation, roofie

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: Peter Parker is your best friend. Peter Parker is your only friend. Peter wants to keep it that way.

Peter Parker was your best friend. In fact, Peter Parker was your only friend. The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You grew up together attached at the hip, and therefore, you did everything together.

He was there, watching in awe when you pulled your first loose tooth. You did the same when he pulled his first one weeks later. You helped each other learn how to ride bikes, double dutch, and even attempt to skateboard once. The two of you had broken so many bones together that you had lost count.

You weathered middle school together and the absolute insanity that was high school. You two had been best friends all your life, and it had never been anything more than that, so you both were equally confused when catty high school girls and bored high school guys would constantly accuse the two of you of dating. It was a thought that had never crossed your minds, and it was something you often laughed about.

There were absolutely no secrets between you two, and despite that, you still found yourself completely frozen in shock as you watched Peter slip in through your bedroom window one night during sophomore year. He was covered in bruises, and the oddly familiar red and blue fit he wore had some tears. You had stumbled off of your bed, running to grab him as he struggled to stand.

Realization hit you as he leaned against your wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, and your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“Y-you’re Spider-Man?”

It had come out louder than you had intended, and he was frantic as he covered your mouth, begging you to keep quiet. Neither one of you slept much that night as you demanded answers from him. You remembered feeling upset and betrayed that he had been hiding something so important from you, but even worse, you felt worried.

Your best friend had been put in danger so many times while you had been none the wiser. From then on, you demanded that he pass through your house to change out of his suit before going home. Not only for it to be safe for him to get home, but to put your own heart at ease too. It gave you a sense of comfort to see for yourself that he ended the night in one piece.

It was a tough secret to keep, incredibly trying to keep your thoughts to yourself as you watched his crime fighting be reported day in and day out. It was difficult to keep your worry at bay when he was late sneaking into your bedroom or to keep yourself from crying out when he was especially hurt. You were the only one who knew the truth, and the gravity of it served to further isolate the two of you.

Peter was literally your only friend and had been for as long as you could remember. What did it matter that you had never had any girlfriends, even now during college? Sure, you had always envied that special bond some girls seemed to have with each other. Of course, it bothered you a little that you had never experienced what it was like to have a best friend who could relate to you in every single way, but Peter was plenty. Yeah, there were some things that as a guy, he would never fully be able to empathize with, but his sympathy and well intentions were enough.

Besides, having a guy best friend came with its perks. Peter understood guys way better than you could ever hope to, and he was always more than eager to give you advice. Thanks to him, you could probably call yourself an expert on them, but in the end, it never did any good. You had never had a boyfriend, never even anything remotely close. Sure, it bothered you, a lot, but in the end you were grateful.

Peter saved you from regret more times than you could count. Every guy you had ever vocalized interest in turned out to be absolute garbage. At least, that was what Peter told you, and you trusted him. He was never wrong about these things. Tristan, an upperclassman that you’d had a crush on during your freshman year, had apparently been a racist creep. James from your junior year was a party animal with anger issues. Your first year of college, you’d fallen head over heels for a literature major named Logan, but Peter had to be the bearer of bad news when he informed you that the guy had a girlfriend back home and about three more on campus.

After that, you had just given up completely. You saw no point to any of it when every guy you had ever liked turned out to be awful. In the end, Peter was truly the only one you could trust. You were beyond thankful for him, and the day you could bring a guy around with Peter’s approval was the day you would know you found a good one. Unfortunately, you were starting to think that day would never come. You dreaded the day Peter would finally get a girlfriend, because then you would truly be a lonely wreck.

You found it odd that Peter had been single all this time too. This wasn’t high school anymore. In college, girls liked guys who were smart and who read and knew how to have conversations outside of sports. Add the fact that Peter had grown to be quite attractive and had even joined a fraternity, he was a catch. So it was safe to say you didn’t get it, and told him so one night.

“I’ve just never met the right girl,” he said with a shrug, distracted.

“Oh, come on,” you scoffed in disbelief. “So many great girls have shown interest in you. What about MJ? She was tall and funny and her hair-! God, her hair.”

He snorted, a faint smirk on his lips.

“I just wasn’t into her.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

MJ was practically perfect, and you had never known Peter to be nitpicky. He just shrugged, eyes focused on his laptop as he typed away.

“Peter,” you whined. “This is just sad. One of us has to start dating soon or we’ll just end up staring at each other in our old age.”

“I’ve dated,” he said, offended as his eyes cut up to you.

You rolled your eyes, flicking your pencil at him.

“I mean dating dating, not whatever it is you and your “frat bros” do every weekend. That house has seen more girls than a gynecologist clinic,” you complained.

“You know I’m not like that,” he said, shutting his laptop and setting it aside.

While he was somewhat right, he’d still had his own fair share of fun with some of the girls who went to their parties.

“You may not be as bad as the rest of them, but you can’t fool me, Peter. Remember, there are no secrets between us,” you replied, leaning back into the couch. “When are you going to get a girlfriend?”

He didn’t answer, and you continued.

“I know you want one. You’ve mentioned it several times, and I know dozens of girls that would be thrilled to be given the chance.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you his full attention now.

“I just…haven’t found the right girl,” he lamely repeated.

You opted to leave it alone, skeptically eyeing him before reaching out to turn on the tv. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you, but he fortunately spoke before you had a chance to ask him what was up.

“To be honest…there was a time when I thought…you’d be my girlfriend,” he quietly confessed, almost like he was afraid of your reaction.

You looked at him, shock and disbelief coursing through you. A humorless chuckle left your lips.

“You’re kidding…”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were completely serious.

“No, I’m not. It was senior year of high school and… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I know we were teased about it for years and the idea was crazy to us, but one day…I realized that you were the person I was closest to in the world…and I wanted to be closer.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe as you listened to this confession. You had never known, and you wondered how you could have missed it. What kind of friend were you?

“It was the only secret I ever kept from you…”

You turned to fully look at him.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, dark eyes studying you.

“I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I just forced myself to let it go. And I did,” he answered.

He was right. You had never felt the same way, and you started to wonder what would have happened if he had confessed his feelings to you. How awkward that could have been… It could have ruined everything.

“Peter…I can’t believe you did that. That must have…sucked,” you whispered.

He chuckled.

“I’m not going to lie. It kind of did, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re special to me, and nothing would have been worth making our friendship weird or just destroying it altogether. It turned out to be nothing more than a crush, anyway. Just…teenage hormones.”

You felt your heart clench, wondering if you would have done the same. It must have been torture for him to swallow his feelings just to keep things comfortable between you two, no matter how fleeting the whole thing was for him.

“Really, it’s no big deal, Y/N. I’m long over it, now,” he waved you off.

You chuckled, moving past the brief shock you’d just experienced.

“I’m glad for that. If you told me you still had feelings for me, I probably would’ve accused you of sabotage all these years.”

“Sabotage,” he scoffed. “Listen, every single guy you’ve been into was downright awful. You literally have the worst taste in men-.”

“I do not!”

“You do, Y/N. Honestly, if it wasn’t for me, who knows what you would have gotten yourself into.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just for that, you’re paying for the takeout, tonight.”

“Botany? That’s crazy! I want to go into agriculture,” you said with a laugh.

The guy before you, Harry, chuckled with you. The two of you were tucked into a quiet corner of the kitchen. The rest of the house was vibrating with a deep bass, the sound of noisy college students filling your ears. Parties weren’t your thing, but frat parties especially were definitely not your thing. Somehow, Peter had finally talked you into attending one of his house’s infamous parties, and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes before you grabbed a drink with as little alcohol as possible and hid in the kitchen.

It was miraculous really that you bumped into an attractive guy who was equally uncomfortable with these things. He was funny and charming, and he wanted to study plants. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but someone else might say it was fate that you two ran into each other. Hell, you ran into each other at Peter’s frat house, so the chances that they knew each other were high. Maybe Peter would have good things to tell you about him.

As if he was summoned by your thoughts, your eyes connected with familiar brown ones as he poked his head into the kitchen.

“Peter!”

You waved him over, and his eyes flitted between you and Harry as he approached you.

“Hey, Parker. I didn’t know you knew Y/N,” Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, Peter and I go way back. He’s my best friend,” you said, pulling Peter over.

Your best friend was being unusually quiet, and you frowned. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes had hardened. Was he okay?

“Y/N was just telling me that she wants to go into agriculture. We’ll probably be taking a lot of classes together in about two years,” Harry threw out.

Peter chuckled at that, but it sounded off, and he turned to look at you.

“I figured you’d be hiding in the kitchen, so I came to find you,” Peter said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

A shudder passed through you at the unfamiliar gesture, but you brushed it off.

“Oh, you know how I am. I’m glad I ran into Harry though! He’s been keeping me company, so you can just go back to the party if you want. Your friends are probably looking for you,” you replied.

Peter had become quite popular since you two started college, and you knew that the demand for his attention was rather high. You often felt bad about dragging him down with you. You weren’t really the social type.

“Yeah, Parker, I can look out for Y/N for you,” Harry offered, a friendly smile on his lips.

You returned it and noticed the way Peter’s jaw ticked, and confusion filled you.

“Actually, I came to find Y/N so that we can go,” Peter bit out.

Your frown deepened, but you didn’t question it as Peter gripped your hand.

“Oh, okay. I guess we’re leaving. See you around, Harry!”

He waved back as Peter pulled you out of the kitchen. His grip was tight on your hand as he weaved through swaying bodies and drunk students. Again, you wondered if he was upset about something. It was Peter, so you hardly ever saw him upset. You breathed in the fresh air when the two of you made it outside, and you took the time to eye him.

“Peter…you alright?”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving before he looked at you with a smile. He looked more like himself and you returned it.

“Yeah, I’m just…not feeling too good,” he answered.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “Are you getting sick?”

He shrugged, hand in his pockets.

“I don’t know. I probably had too much to drink. Mind if I crash at your place?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’re always welcome to sleep over, you know that.”

It was quiet for a while between you two as you walked back to your apartment. His hand was soft on yours, and the way his arm kept brushing against yours brought comfort to you. You were so used to his presence, borderline dependent on it, and just knowing he was beside you was reassuring.

“I love you, Peter, but please don’t invite me to anymore parties,” you suddenly whispered, a hint of mock fear in your voice.

He barked a laugh, and you joined him.

“All of them aren’t that bad, I promise,” he chuckled. “Did you really hate it that much?”

You hummed, releasing a sigh.

“Maybe I didn’t hate it all that much,” you admitted after some time.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as a wistful smile fell over your lips, eyes gazing at the sky.

“So…how do you know Harry?”

His hand tightened around your own just the slightest.

“He’s in another frat,” he answered with a scoff. “He’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks he can get anything he wants by throwing money at it.”

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Somehow, I’m not shocked by that, but… You know what? I don’t care.”

He stopped walking, pulling you to a halt with him, and he stared at you with a frown.

“What? What do you mean?”

You shrugged.

“I like him. We have a lot in common and he’s hilarious and so cute. Maybe… Maybe I’m expecting too much, you know?”

Peter looked even more confused, jaw clenching as his frown deepened.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean… Yes, I’m a huge romantic and I want a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, like I have for years, but… You have always been a girlfriend kind of guy. It’s no secret that you’re open to a serious relationship, and you claim the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you haven’t found the right girl, but… Peter, that’s never stopped you from having fun,” you elaborated.

He didn’t respond, and you sighed.

“I’m just saying that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should stop trying to make a boyfriend out of every guy I’m into and just have fun. Like you!”

He forced a chuckle past his lips.

“That’s…that’s not like you…”

“I know, but… I’m tired of being alone,” you shrugged. “We’re in college, now, and the chances of me finding a boyfriend are pretty low. Let you tell it, a good portion of the guys here are trash, but that only matters if you’re looking for something serious, and I don’t think I want that anymore.”

Peter was uncharacteristically quiet…again, and you tilted your head at him.

“That’s…a big change for you,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “…but I’m really into Harry. You’ll help me, right?”

Your pleading gaze met his dark one, slightly frowning at the way he was looking at you. He pursed his lips.

“Please, Peter? I really like him, and you know him so well.”

He looked away with a small sigh. He briefly closed his eyes before eventually nodding, and you smiled. He looked at you with a grin on his lips, taking your hand again as he continued the trek down the sidewalk.

“Yeah. Leave it to me, Y/N, and I’ll help you get laid in no time,” he relented.

You squealed, reaching up to shake his shoulders as you pushed him along.

“You’re an angel!”

He chuckled.

“What are best friends for?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, that was much better than I was expecting,” Harry relented.

“See! I told you, I am an excellent judge when it comes to these things,” you replied as the two of you walked out of the theatre.

It was the sixth date the two of you had been on in 4 weeks. True to his word, Peter had helped you out, and that next morning after the party, you’d woken up to a text from Harry Osborn himself. A huge grin had spread out over your face, and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

The two of you had been talking nonstop since then about practically any and everything. It turns out that you hadn’t been premature in thinking the two of you had so much in common. It was true! It was almost suspicious how much of the same things you liked, including horror films.

“Listen, the storyline didn’t seem all that original, and when I had watched the trailer, I felt like I’d seen the entire thing in less than 2 minutes,” he defended.

“Okay, okay, that I can understand, but ever since I’d missed out on seeing both Insidious and The Conjuring in theatres because I thought they were going to suck, I vowed to myself ‘never again’.”

“Yikes! Both of those films were great. I just know you still kick yourself over that one,” he laughed.

“It literally haunts me,” you groaned. “I know experiencing both of those in the theatre must have been amazing.”

Harry seemed to find your regret amusing, and he stopped to look at you with a smile on his face.

“Hey, so uh, my frat is throwing a party this weekend. I mean, we do just about every weekend, but I was thinking maybe you could come…as my…date this weekend?”

Your eyes widened a bit, and you felt your face heat up. He seemed nervous to ask you, like he didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and it was wild to you. You really liked Harry, and you thought you had made that more than obvious over the past month. Sure, Peter was right when he said he was a bit of a snob, but it wasn’t overbearingly so to the point that it became a turn off. Crazily enough, you could see Harry being more than just ‘fun’.

“I’d love that,” you honestly replied.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you on the deserted sidewalk.

“Yeah…?”

You nodded, looking up at him as he got closer. Neither one of you said anything as he reached up to gently grip your jaw, leaning in until his lips pressed against yours. You sharply inhaled, closing your eyes as you savored this. His lips were soft, and the way he moved them against yours told you that he was experienced.

That didn’t bother you. Truth be told, you had always wanted to be with someone who knew what they were doing, because honestly, you had no idea. You felt flutters deep in your stomach, and you shuffled closer to him when a cool breeze blew by. He pulled away just a little, opening his eyes to look at you as you did the same.

“Come on. Let me walk you back to your place,” he offered.

You happily gripped his hand as he did just that.

You felt giddy, absolutely on cloud nine as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Maybe you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but a nice and rich frat guy was asking you to be his date to his house’s party. In context, this whole thing was showing a lot of promise. Guys like him normally liked to keep their options open, and him actually claiming you as his date was making somewhat of a statement.

You waved him goodbye as you made your way inside the complex, lips still tingling from the second kiss he’d given you just outside. You were still smiling when you rounded the corner that led to your hall, pausing as your eyes fell on a familiar figure outside of your door.

“Peter, hey!”

He pulled himself to his feet with a small groan, stretching as you fished your keys out of your purse.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for over an hour,” he said, glancing at his watch.

You gave him a sheepish look as you let him go in first.

“Sorry. I went to go see a movie with Harry,” you answered.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “You’re still seeing that guy?”

“That guy,” you scoffed with a small chuckle. “Isn’t he your friend?”

“Yeah, sort of, I guess…”

“You staying over tonight?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“I really wasn’t planning to, but since I’ve been waiting this long, I don’t want to go back to the house in the dark.”

You hummed, opening your drawer of takeout menus to figure out what you should order.

“So…how are things going with Harry?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that fell over your lips.

“Great actually,” you said, sounding surprised. “He asked me to be his date to the party his frat is throwing this weekend.”

Peter’s eyes were wide as you glanced up at him, dark eyebrows raised as he looked at you.

“Really…”

“Yeah! I don’t know… I wasn’t exactly planning for this to be anything serious, you know? I wanted to experience some light fun for once in my life, but now… I think I can see us actually being something,” you whispered.

Peter didn’t reply right away, only humming in response.

“Are you going to the party?”

He blinked, heaving a sigh before shaking his head.

“Nah. I’m not really a fan of the kind of parties they throw,” he said with a shrug.

“What do you mean?”

He waved you off.

“They can just get pretty wild. They regularly get noise complaints and don’t really monitor how much alcohol people are drinking until it’s too late and there’s throw up everywhere,” he explained with a frown.

“Oh…”

You were a bit disappointed that Peter wasn’t going to be there, but you had to remind yourself to stop being so dependent upon him. The two of you couldn’t stay attached at the hip forever, and at some point, you had to start making a social life for yourself…by yourself.

Friday night came much quicker than expected, and you were all dressed and ready to go. The house wasn’t far from your place, and since it was still daylight, you didn’t mind walking. You’d worn comfortable shoes, so it didn’t bother you.

Even though you would probably be considered an early arriver, the place was already lively when you stepped through the door. Everywhere you turned, you were met with someone’s back or chest, and you struggled to maneuver yourself through the bodies. You didn’t recognize anyone, and almost wished that Peter had come with you, growing nervous until you spotted a familiar head of dark hair.

You approached Harry with a smile, reaching out to grab his arm. His eyes were wide when he turned to face you, and you frowned when he maneuvered his arm out of your grip. Your frown only deepened when he stepped away from you, glancing away, and that was when you noticed the girl at his side.

She hadn’t been paying attention, gaze elsewhere, but she smiled when she finally turned to look at you. She was blonde and beautiful and had perfect teeth, dazzling you as she grinned. Her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around Harry’s arm as she leaned into him.

“Hey! Are you a friend of Harry’s?”

She seemed sweet, and confusion filled you at their familiar body language.

“Babe, this is Y/N. She’s super close with my friend Peter,” Harry answered, barely sparing you a glance.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you eyed them.

“Oh! I’ve yet to meet Peter, but I’ve heard you mention him sometimes. I’m Scarlet, Harry’s girlfriend,” she introduced herself.

If it all possible, you probably would have thrown up, but you hadn’t eaten anything all day, too nervous about tonight.

“Oh, wow! I don’t think Peter ever mentioned Harry having a girlfriend,” you responded, hoping it sounded casual.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, but you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Well, I’ve never actually met Peter, and Harry and I only recently go back together…what was it? Two months ago?”

“Two months ago…wow…”

You didn’t know what to say, and you finally understood the full meaning of ‘speechless’ in that moment.

“Yeah, Harry didn’t have any plans this weekend as far as I knew, so I decided to come down and surprise him. You should have seen his face when I showed up on the doorstep an hour ago,” she laughed.

You joined her, feeling like you were going to be sick.

“I’ll let you two catch up. It was nice to meet you!”

“You too,” Scarlet said, waving goodbye as you turned and pushed yourself through the crowd.

There were tears in your eyes, and your body was shaking. Were you on the verge of a panic attack? You stumbled over your own feet as you attempted to make your way to the door. So focused on the baby pink polish on your toes, you didn’t notice the figure before you until your head was colliding with their chest.

You stumbled back, almost falling had it not been for a familiar pair of hands. You looked up in shock, and everything crashed into you as your eyes met Peter’s. His gaze was inquiring, worry coloring his features as he studied you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, letting it fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“What happened?”

“H-Harry has a girlfriend,” you whispered.

You felt him tense against you.

“…what?”

“I mean… I thought… You said he was just some spoiled rick kid. You never mentioned a girlfriend,” you said, looking up at him.

“I didn’t know. Honest. They broke up forever ago,” he replied, pulling you against him.

“Yeah, well apparently, they got back together two months ago. The whole time we’d been talking and going out together he…,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “He treated me like I was practically a stranger.”

Peter’s jaw ticked, and he moved to go past you, but you stopped him. His dark eyes were focused on Harry no doubt, but you pressed your hands into his chest.

“Peter, let it go. Please! Just…stay with me? I don’t think I want to go home…”

The last thing you wanted was to lay in your bed and remind yourself of what a disaster tonight was turning out to be. Peter heaved a sigh, hands tightening on you before reluctantly nodding. He pulled you along towards the door.

“Come on. We can just go to the party at my house,” he offered.

You nodded, leaning against him as he walked you out. You wiped at your cheek, unsure of when a few tears had spilled over. You had fooled yourself into dreaming of more with Harry and look where it got you. Even if you had still only wanted something casual, there was no way you would have knowingly got involved with a guy who had a girlfriend. That wasn’t who you were.

“I thought…I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.

“I wasn’t, but… I didn’t want to leave you at a party where the only person you knew was Harry. I’m glad I did come,” he murmured. “What an ass…”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter. Really. Maybe this is just a sign that I should stop trying to force something with every guy I like. It never turns out well,” you sighed.

Peter’s frat house was just as lively when you guys moseyed inside. A few of his brothers recognized you, and you waved at them. Peter’s arm tightened around your waist, but you didn’t mind it. You knew what other guys at the party would think, but you didn’t care. You were done with guys, and all you wanted was to hang out with Peter, the only guy you had ever been able to trust. So if they mistook you as Peter’s girl, and left you alone because of it, that was fine with you.

The two of you were attached at the hip throughout the night. Peter had gotten both of you drinks, and hours later, you were still nursing that same drink. This was never your crowd, and the more you made your way around the room with Peter, the more obvious it became. He didn’t seem to mind your company though, arm still at home on your waist. You noticed a few disappointed glances being thrown your way, and you chuckled with a frown.

“Peter, I think I’m ruining your chances of getting laid,” you finally said.

He glanced around to see what you meant before he chuckled too.

“It’s fine. You’re my best friend. I’m not just going to ditch you,” he responded.

You smiled but still felt a bit guilty that you had affected his night again. You pulled away from him, letting him know that you were going to be in the kitchen. He understood and promised to join you. To be honest, you wanted him to have fun. You didn’t exactly take pleasure in knowing that he sacrificed his usual routine at parties just for you.

You leaned against the counter, pressing your fingers to your temples as you rubbed circles into your skin. You didn’t know how the night had gone so wrong. How had you been so clueless? No, no! You were not going to do that. It wasn’t your job to watch and hunt for signs of an untruthful man. You weren’t supposed to be suspicious of a guy you were seeing. This whole situation was completely on Harry.

You finished your drink, tossing the red cup into the trash with a sigh. It was amazing that in the span of 3 hours, your life had done a complete 180. You had gone from having the time of your life to being alone and miserable and feeling absolutely foolish.

You heard footsteps make their way into the kitchen. You glanced up, face contorting in a frown as your gaze connected with that of the last person you wanted to see.

“What are you doing here?” you scoffed.

He was holding two drinks, eyes apologetic as he approached you.

“I’m sorry-.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry. There’s nothing that you could say that can fix this.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Scarlet and I… We’ve been having problems for a long time, now, and we both thought getting back together would make them magically go away, but they didn’t. The night we met, Scarlet and I had gotten into a huge fight, and I was under the impression that we were over…for good.”

You eyed him.

“Then she wanted to work things out, but I had already met you, and I really liked you…”

You looked away with a sigh.

“We were never exclusive, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because you have a girlfriend. You had a girlfriend the whole time we were hanging out, and I’m certain that you and she have an agreement that you guys are exclusive,” you harshly replied.

He glanced down, and you chuckled, but it lacked humor.

“You were cheating on her…with me… Never mind the obvious of how she would feel if she found out, but how do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I like being that kind of girl?”

He shook his head.

“No, no, you’re not the type-.”

“Exactly.”

He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“I know I messed up, okay? I just wanted to apologize and bring you this… You said it’s your favorite, the only drink you actually really like, and I thought maybe it could soften the blow of you chewing me out,” he confessed.

You eyed the cup, glaring at him before taking it. You took a sip before sighing.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” you saluted him with it. “…but I don’t see us moving past this Harry. It was fun, but I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. I’m sorry, and I mean it when I say I hope you and Scarlet work things out.”

You brushed past him, taking another sip of the fruity mixture as you went in search of Peter. It was easy to find him, following the sound of his familiar laughter. He didn’t mention anything as he wrapped his arm around you, and you figured that he didn’t know Harry was here yet.

“Hey, I was coming, I swear I was-.”

“Peter, it’s fine! You know I don’t care about you keeping me company or not. I’m a big girl.”

He returned your smile, pulling you closer as his hand tightened on your waist.

You didn’t plan to stay much longer, and about an hour later you decided that you would head out…after you used the bathroom. You found it much more difficult to weave through the sweaty bodies this time, and you blinked as your vision spun for half a second. You stopped to steady yourself, pressing your hand to your head in confusion.

You eventually made it to the bathroom, and you took some time to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked alright, for the most part, but you felt so…off. Your fingers were tingling just the slightest, and the bass in the houses sounded incredibly far away. By the time you were done in the bathroom, you were stumbling out.

You had to hold onto the wall for support, and confusion filled you. You’d only been drunk a handful of times, but this time felt different. Even worse, you had only had two drinks. You dreaded making your way down the stairs, and you had to pause and lean your back on the wall halfway down. You heard someone call your name, and they too sounded so far away. You jerked when a pair of hands landed on your arms.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

You stared at Harry for the longest time, wondering what he was still doing here when it clicked. You frowned at him.

“Did you put something in my drink?”

Your words were slurred, but he understood you nonetheless, and his eyes widened.

“What? No!”

“You did, didn’t you? I…I only had two drinks, and this didn’t start until after-.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t do that! Come on, let me-.”

“No!” you jerked away from him. “Is this your way of getting in my pants, anyway?”

He frantically shook his head, concern and worry and disbelief all rolled into one in his gaze.

“Y/N, you have to believe me! I wouldn’t do this!”

You scoffed, pushing against him, but it was weak.

“Believe you? How could I trust anything you say?”

He blinked, something clicking in his eyes as he looked down the stairs and back to you.

“Y/N, I didn’t get the drink for you. Did Parker not tell you he saw me? He gave me the-.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

You both turned to look just as Peter came up the stairs. You stumbled towards him, fighting off Harry’s hands as Peter wrapped his arms around you.

“He put something in my drink,” you whispered, on the verge of passing out.

“What?” Peter demanded, tightening his hold on you.

“Y/N, listen-!”

“You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Get out of here, Harry, because if I tell my frat brothers you’re drugging girls they aren’t just going to let you walk out of here,” he threatened.

Harry stumbled over his words as Peter helped you back up the stairs.

“Leave,” you heard him snap at the other brunette.

Your fingers dug into his arm as he helped you walk down the hall, arms tightening around you.

“P-Peter…”

“Hey, hey… It’s okay. You can crash in my room, tonight, yeah?”

You’d only been in his room a handful of times, the both of you usually hanging out at his place. It was always clean and always smelled good, and you had thought to yourself before that it was no wonder girls kept coming back. He sat you down on his bed, and you struggled to sit upright.

You heard him fumbling around in his drawers and looked up just in time to see him coming over with a huge t-shirt. You didn’t mind when he helped you out of your clothes, welcoming it during your inebriated state. His fingers grazed your skin as he slid the shirt over you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blinking at him.

He took his thumb to widen your eyes, getting a good look at your pupils. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, and you were grateful for Peter. You didn’t like feeling like this, and you shuddered to think about what would have happened to you had Peter not been here.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He ran his eyes over you before resting them on your fogged-out ones.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said with a small smile. “What are best friends for?”

You struggled to return the smile, and he brushed his hand along the side of your face. Your eyes fell closed at the gentle feel of his ministrations. You were somewhat in shock that Harry would do such a thing. A rapist was a big leap from cheater and liar, and you wondered what drove him to do it. He had a girlfriend, but maybe he was truly that greedy and disgusting?

You forced your eyes open when you felt Peter’s hand on the side of your neck. You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as you watched him lean in.

“Peter-.”

You were cut off when he pressed his lips against your own. Your eyes widened, and you reached up to press your hands into his chest, but you had no strength. His hand slid to grip the hair at the back of your head, tightening his grip as he leaned into you.

You mumbled incoherently into his mouth as he laid you down, his lithe frame immediately settling against yours. His other hand was on your naked thigh, his t-shirt riding up to brush against your underwear. You turned your head, gasping for breath.

“Peter…stop,” you panted. “W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you, opting instead to pull away and reach behind his head to pull his shirt off. You blinked as you were met with the sight of his bare chest. He leaned down again, pressing his lips against yours. He simply swallowed all of your protests, and you turned your head away again.

“Peter!”

“I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for years, now,” he whispered against your cheek.

Your eyes widened, and confusion filled you.

“…what?”

You tried to scoot back on the bed, but he only followed, his frame still caging yours in as you both moved. His eyes were hard as he looked at you, and you felt tears collect as you fought not to cry.

“Harry gets everything, you know. It’s all just so easy for him, but I’d never let him have you,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your neck. “Not after I worked so hard to save you…for myself…”

You pushed against him again, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no. Peter, what…what are you…?”

Nothing was making sense, and your head hurt and your body felt heavy and the room was spinning. Nothing he was saying was making sense.

“Peter, you’re my best friend… This doesn’t make any sense…”

Your head lolled, much too heavy to lift as you heard him fumble with his pants. Panic gripped you, but you could hardly move. You groaned when he pressed himself against you, and you could feel him hard and throbbing between your thighs.

“Peter,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to be the only person who gets to be inside of you. The only one to know what it feels like to have you wrapped around them. God, I’ve always wanted to know what you feel like,” he whispered, kissing you again.

His fingers made their way to your core, rubbing you through your underwear. You reached up to grip his arm, but you were sure that your hold was featherlight. You let like your body weighed a ton, and the smallest of movements took so much out of you.

You whimpered as you felt your underwear grow damp, and Peter wasted no time in pushing them to the side before pushing a finger inside of you. Another soon followed, and you were panting beneath him as he worked his hand in between your legs.

“Please…stop,” you begged. “I’ll scream…”

“Can you?” he wondered, lips brushing against yours.

Tears spilled over at his question. He was right. Could you even scream? You could barely speak.

“Even if you could scream, Y/N… There’s a party going on. Who’s going to hear you? Hmm?”

He was dragging your filthy underwear down your legs, now.

“Peter, please. I’m your best friend… Please, don’t do this to me,” you pleaded.

Peter’s eyes met yours.

“It’s just been us our entire lives. All we ever needed was each other. I want to keep it that way,” he said.

You yelped, pressing your nails into his back as he slid inside of you to the hilt. Your legs were limp around him, a scream caught in your throat. He leaned down to kiss your wet cheeks, shushing you as you struggled to adjust beneath him.

He took his time as he pulled out of you before sliding back in, groaning at the way you clenched around him. You pressed your nails harder into his back, and he hissed before reaching back to grip your wrist, pinning it to the bed. He did the same with the other and kept a steady pace.

You panted beneath him, eyes fluttering closed. Whatever was coursing through your system made it impossible to focus on anything other than the way his hard length felt dragging against your walls. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he thrust into you, never taking his eyes off of you as he watched your face.

His grip tightened on your wrists, and you gasped at the pain.

“Peter…”

“It’s okay. Just enjoy it, Y/N…”

You gasped again as he picked up his pace, forehead dewy with sweat. He buried his face in your neck again, chest pressed against yours as he pinned you to the bed, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “You’re finally mine…”

Something that was a cross between a choked moan and a sob escaped you.

“I want everyone to know it-.”

“No, Peter-!”

“I’m going to fuck you until the sun comes up, so everyone in this house will know you belong to me. You’re my girl, Y/N. You always have been,” he moaned. “…and when you limp out of this house with my marks on you, everyone will know it.”

He came in you with a low moan, and you sobbed into his chest as he rolled over, curling you against him. He ran his fingers down your back, lips brushing your forehead.

“I’ll make you come before the night is over,” he whispered. “I’ll be the only one to ever touch you like this.”

You shook your head, and he rolled you back onto your back, still inside of you. His dark eyes bore into your own, fingers trailing over your trembling body.

“You know exactly what I’m capable of, Y/N… You know the things I can do. I’d hate to have to hurt someone for touching what’s mine.”

tags: @sherrybaby14 @kellyn1604 @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @villanellevi @sebabestianstan101 @harringtonsblackgf

@opheliadawnwalker3 @jtargaryen18 @notyourtypicalrose @readermia

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter #peter parker #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #dark!peter x reader

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morifinwes · 4 years ago

Note

Lauraa I finished all the fics, apart from decay (currently reading that now) and I love it sm! Especially the lip gloss one lmao the whole thing was so hilarious to me XD but also like the concept of lwj wearing lipgloss is >>> -yibobibo

@yibobibo then i'm going to rec you some more!! the lip gloss one was !!!!! ajsksks yes!! lwj wearing lipgloss is just so!! good!!

modern

this one is the painful one i talked about:

visitations by var_abelasan (12K, wip, divorced wangxian, post divorce, most of this is angst, uhm lowkey don't but also do want wangxian to end up together, it's messy, the jiangs & lans are shitty, wwx was in prison (brief mentions of that but it's kind of a major plot point), mxy & xy are the little brothers he never wanted but wwx picked them up anyways)

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry."

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine.

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

please don't let me be misunderstood by sysrae (3K, partly deaf!wwx, lwj notices, nobody else does though, idk wwx is like made out of fucking steel or some shit)

Lan Wangji has known Wei Ying for a fortnight, the first time he sees him get hit by a car.

light by redkosmos (10K, blind!lwj, which causes angst, but they manage it, best friends to lovers, fluff, lwj being insecure and feeling like a burden, college au kind of? but it doesn't matter too much)

The realization slowly dawns on him.

He can never again see the brightness of Wei Ying's eyes, the way they crescent when he smiles, never again see the rich black of his hair, the mess of it in the early mornings, never again see the beautiful tan of his skin, the beauty of the scars and marks adorned on it, how he wears his clothes, how it hugs his frame beautifully, how he looks like he's adorably swimming in cloth when he wears Lan Zhan's, and-

(Lan Zhan loses his vision in a car accident and learns to cope with it.)

don't leave me by trippinonskies (19K, brief very brief mention of lwj cheating, he doesn't but wwx is afraid lwj is cheating on him or just wants to break up with him, (he doesn't), marriage proposal, lwj acting distant = wwx's insecurities show up, fluff, angst and comfort)

Lan Zhan! Where are you lost today?” Wei Wuxian finally asks, at the end of his patience.

Lan Zhan looks a little guilty as he looks at Wei Wuxian, “Sorry, just a lot of work to deal with.”

Lie.

If there is one thing Lan Zhan can’t do, it’s lying. Especially to Wei Wuxian. But he doesn’t question Lan Zhan. He just accepts the reply, too scared to know that he is right. Too scared to know the truth.

// or where Lan Zhan is too hung up in planning the perfect proposal and ends up accidently ignoring Wei Wuxian making the other think that he wants to break up //

want you closer by xiaobucephalus ((3K, HORSES, only in the background tho, but wwx is an equestrian vet, which is so fucking valid bro, the lans own horses, a sick bunny, lwj the bunny parent!, super cute, dark bay throughoutbred chenqing is honestly so valid)

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Don’t thank me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughed again, his voice warming the chill of fear that had settled in his chest. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get into your hutch for a while anyway.”

safe in your thoughts by anonymous (20K, it's a cherry magic au???? (i haven't watched it, but you have i think?), horny lwj but only for wwx (always for wwx))

Wei Wuxian learns three very important things on the night of his twenty-seventh birthday.

One, that Lan Wangji is ridiculously funny, which Wei Wuxian had known before but what Wei Wuxain hadn’t expected was Lan Wangji to be funny at his brother’s expense.

Two, that Wei Wuxian had finally gone mad, absolutely mental at the ripe age of twenty seven because nothing else would explain the third thing he had learnt.

Third, and the most unbelievable of the lot, that Lan Wangji wants to fuck him.

iura by yoo_im_finally_writing (1K, only added bcs op is right and wwx would've the cutest german accent, it's more fun if you understand german so hit me up if you want translations for the german sentences)

Wei Ying calls in the middle of the night to talk about German law, and Lan Zhan tries very hard not to fall asleep. Or at least, not to let Wei Ying notice he's falling asleep. (As best friends do.)

breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm / @neverdoingmuch (27K, getting together, jealous!lwj, but also kind of supportive, brief mention of cheating bcs of miscommunication, no actual cheating tho, college au, lwj pov)

Following Wei Ying’s line of sight, Lan Wangji can barely prevent a smile from crossing his lips when he sees the short row of rabbit statuettes placed at the front of the display. Silver, with bright gems for eyes, they look elegant yet lively and animated.

“A-Yuan would love one of those,” Wei Ying murmurs, almost as if to himself.

Lan Wangji frowns; the rabbits, while cute, don’t seem like a suitable gift for Wei Ying’s A-Yuan.

...

It’s only when he glances back at the rabbits and notices what has been placed on display behind them, that the pieces fall into place. They’re engagement rings, there’s no doubt about it. Lan Wangji feels his heart sink – Wei Ying isn’t just dating A-Yuan, he wants to propose to him.

Or: the five times Lan Wangji thinks that A-Yuan is Wei Ying’s boyfriend and the one time he learns the truth.

paint smears on sunny days by snowshadowao3 / @angstsexual (53K, getting together, art teacher!wwx, single parent!lwj, they're rich if i remember right, wwx & lwj are both good with kids!!!, this is so good actually, fluff)

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

no bunny compares by gusucloudbunny (4K, god this is cute, fluff)

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cornered his friend one week before his birthday. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow at Wei Wuxian, not exactly sure how to answer that question in a truthful manner that didn’t involve confessing his undying love for his best friend.

Wei Wuxian is on a mission to get Lan Wangji the perfect gift for his birthday. What Wei Wuxian doesn't know is that the only thing Lan Wangji truly wants is him.

wei wuxian's week of realizing things by photojenny (12K, i have read this multiple times, i always forget what happens, idk why but my notes say it's good, the tags say drunkji makes an appearance and i'm always up for that)

"Lan Zhan, do you like Mianmian?" asked Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji blinked, and stared. It was not the first time Lan Wangji had questioned the perceptiveness of the boy he had a crush on. Wei Wuxian had been smart in the class they had taken together. Yet time and time again, Wei Wuxian had tested the old wisdom that there are no stupid questions.

---

Lan Wangji must figure out how to confess when Wei Wuxian is the most oblivious person he's ever met.

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (1K, crack, fluff, lwj stop flirting with a stranger, even if he is your husband, drunkji but make it to max level)

Lan Zhan wakes up and he has no idea where he is.

There are bright lights and his jaw hurts, he doesn't who this man next to his bed is but oh he might be in love, maybe, probably, definitely.

–

based off that guy-forgets-who-his-wife-is-and-hits-on-her vid but its wangxian.

beep! goes his heart by wearing_tearing (3K, fluff, lwj is like "he, he likes me right? he likes me" and everyone is like "yes, yes he does")

“Wei Ying’s heart monitor,” Lan Wangji starts.

Wen Qing blinks at him. “Yes?”

“It beeps.”

“That’s… what they generally do, yes.”

“The beeps change,” Lan Wangji continues, “when others are around.”

Wei Ying’s heart only sings for Lan Wangji.

canon

obedient and bellicose by thunderwear (19K, lwj is cursed by the lan elders, they notice too late, fix-it fic kind of?, lqr being a good uncle and lxc is a good brother, wwx accidentally uses the curse but he doesn't know about it)

It took Lan Wangji a long time to realize he was cursed. Too long really, anyone else would have noticed so much sooner. The problem was, he liked following the rules.

Ella Enchanted AU that no one needed but I wanted.

hello my old heart, how have you been? by ravenditefairylights (10K, amnesia, fluff, wwx taking care of lwj, so much fluff and softness, angst too but not that much)

The issue is, Lan Wangji brings his thoughts back before they stray too far, that it is impossible for someone to be in his bed, unless Lan Wangji himself invited them. He has not. He would remember doing so, and besides, all his night clothes are still on and there is no headache to imply that he was inebriated last night. No, the situation is simple.

There is someone in Lan Wangji’s bed. It is impossible for anyone to be in Lan Wangji’s bed, and yet that doesn’t seem to have stopped the stranger.

or lan wangji wakes up, and wei ying is there. he doesn't understand how or why, and he can understand even less why his hallucination of wei ying is so insistent on bathing him, and braiding his hair, on holding him and fixing his clothes. why the hallucination of wei ying seems so happy to see him.

teach me the way by likeafox (58K, rogue cultivator!wwx, horny wangxian, lwj wants wwx to teach him how to be a good lover, ....wwx is a virgin, the porn is the plot, but there's less of it than i thought)

"I do not wish to leave my future spouse… dissatisfied with my intimate knowledge,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously. “I am hoping to find an instructor, to better prepare myself for such matters."

Wei Ying feels his mouth drop open. He's pretty sure the Second Jade of Lan just told him he's a virgin who wants to learn how to do sex good.

Rogue Cultivator Wei Wuxian is the stuff of local legends. Some of those legends are even true! The ones about his tremendous experience in bed, on the other hand, are not so true. Which becomes a problem when Lan Wangji, on the verge of an arranged marriage and worried he won’t know how to please his future spouse, enlists Wei Ying's help to teach him the art of love-making. Wei Ying's great at improvisation, though, and is pretty sure he's got this sex mentor thing under control. What could possibly go wrong

other aus

of god: my love unholy by tunnelodfawn (3K, tw blood / war, dark!lwj, god!wwx, kind of poetry)

Lan Zhan takes everything as a sign from his god. The blood staining his fingertips—a holy anointment. He sanctifies himself through blood. The strings of his guqin gleam red in the sun—a divine blessing. This is an instrument of destruction. A single note—a cry of power—and in this note the voice of his god unravels the earthly threads tethering man to earth.

The Yiling Patriarch blesses Lan Zhan with war. Wei Wuxian blesses Lan Zhan with agility. Wei Ying blesses Lan Zhan with love.

The base of the Yiling Patriarch’s shrine is the home of Lan Zhan’s knees. He worships. There is something of the blasphemous and the unholy in his prayers. He prays not for victory but for the sight of Wei Ying. Bless me with your presence, he begs.

Or, wherein, Lan Zhan bridges the gap between the mortal and the divine—the worshipper and the god—with blood.

the river and the sea by sasamelons / @sasamelons (7K, soulmate au, arranged marriage (wangxian with each other), they're both kind of dumb but i love it)

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, wishing to just be left alone. "I am looking for my soulmate," he ground out.

"Oh."

It took Lan Wangji a few moments to realize that Wei Wuxian had stopped following him. When he looked back, the other boy seemed to be frozen to the spot, eyes wide and lips still parted. He quickly looked away when he saw Lan Wangji looking back. "I see. Well, have a good trip!"

At six years old, Lan Zhan met his soulmate on the streets of Yiling and promptly lost him again.

At sixteen years old, Lan Wangji met his betrothed and was determined not to like him.

#so...i realized i forgot to check the things i already listed but? i tried to avoid listing fics twice?#yes i've mostly been reading oneshots these past few weeks idk why but i can't seem to find any long fics #or at least not ones that i like #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #wangxian fics #mdzs #mdzs fic #cql fic #the untamed #aamna tag #we're almost through the rec list now? i have so much open but idk why i add so few #i'm just really picky when it comes to which ones to write down and which ones not #and then this became a kind of comfort list?#idk?#but also ANGST #not Angst but ANGST #fun fact: Angst means fear in german

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rory-for-short · 4 years ago

Text

New Crossings New Horizons: Chapter 1

So I'm writing an animal crossing fan fiction. Never thought id say that but I'm really exited about it. Ill be posting it here this is Chapter one:

The beginnings of summer, and a 4pm flight. That's how this adventure started. The lights were all fluorescent in the airport terminal and the afternoon air as warm with the promise of summer on the horizon. Of course the private “plane” you were supplied scared you. It was an older model helicopter that was run by DAL and taking you to an island. You agreed to be part of this little venture, simply for the college credit. One semester of “city planning,” if you could even call it that. It was a program run by Thomas Nook. Mr. Nook had approached you via email, as he did many NewLeaf college students with the same major. Only you and three others responded, likely due to the difficult nature of his program. But the promise of a job directly after graduation was simply too appealing for you.

So here you were at 4pm with your suitcase full of necessities and a carry on of any food you could get past customs, walking down an airport runway to a questionable aircraft headed to a deserted island. A man greeted you. He looked about 30. He was wearing aviators, and a DAL pilot uniform, and scruff that made him look a bit more human than your fellow passengers did. His frame was of a muscle bound frat-boy that drank too much and let himself get just a bit squishier. He was talking to someone over a talk system. “Dodo 1 to Dodo 2, we’ve got walkers starting to onboard. Tango Tango Yankee Lima,” he finished as he turned to address us.

“Welcome civilans to Dodo airlines. Leave your luggage at the rear of the craft and ill load it into storage,” he commanded with a deep vibrato. Likey, he didn't intend to seem intimidating, but he was. Looking at him was like seeing a 6’3 wall walking around. You and your fellow passengers did as commanded. You struggled just a bit with your luggage as you moved your carry on bag and a strap on it broke. A temporary loss of balance and stumble from the weight shift, was quickly followed by two hands grabbing the now strapless bag with ease.

“Careful there, flyer. You alright?” asked the concerned pilot. It was at this point you noticed his name tag, a silver bar pinned to his lapel with the name “Wilber” etched into it. Wilber, how fitting for a pilot.

“Yeah, I’m good… Thanks” you managed as he lifted your luggage into the storage compartment.

“Not a problem,” he replied in a measured voice, unchanging despite the amount of weight he was lifting. You began to board the aircraft with you fellow passengers. Apollo, a stoic young man in ROTC, an alt girl who introduced herself as ‘Cherry’, and Bob who had eyes shiftier than a non-automatic car. These were the people you would be stranded on an island with. ‘Better make the best of it and make nice with everyone’ you thought to yourself.

“So, you guys ready to ruff it in the tropics?” Bob asked, breaking the silence.

“I've done training like this for the army. Anyone has any concerns you can ask me,” Apollo shrugged. Well at least one of us was a survivalist. That's a good sign.

“So, like, I did research on this Nook guy and he seems to be some capitalist robber baron. Hope we aren’t part of some get rich quick scheme.” Cherry huffed as she pulled out her phone. Your stomach dropped realizing you knew little about the man you would be working under, while stranded on an island. You should have done research but you were busy reading fine print and filling out your internship paperwork.

“I’m sure we will be fine.. NewLeaf is a prestigious college after all, I’m sure they don't hand out students to just anyone, right?” you said in an attempt to convince yourself more than anyone.

“Eh, I heard rumors he was a shady ass fellow. That's why I agreed to all this. Kinda like a twin flame thing,” Bob laughed. Apollo chucked at his announcement.

“Well I hope for our sake, you are the only ‘shady ass fellow’ we deal with on this trip,” Apollo shot back. you hoped so too.

It was 10pm when you landed. You and your cohorts hadn’t gotten any rest on the flight. Well, except Cherry who had no problem propping her head on Apollo’s shoulder to get some rest. Not that he seemed to mind. He just talked spout survivalist training the whole ride, and didn’t even register the small black and red haired girl leaning into him. Wilber had gotten a duffle bag out of storage to help you move you stuff that was in your now broken bag.

“This should be a bit more durable. Expecting a food shortage?” he asked as he helped move your dried fruits and trail snacks into the not as broken bag. You gave a half hatred laugh.

“Well its better to be prepared. I was a girl scout after all” you quipped. Wilbur nodded his head to that as he zipped up the duffel bag.

“Alright here you are. Watch your fitting as you make your way to camp. Your cohorts got the jump on yah,” he cautioned as you gathered you stuff.

“Thanks Wilber”

“Anytime Civilian”

With that, you made your way to camp. The only saving grace for you to navigate the darkness was the flicker of a fire light a mile ahead. The others had gotten there first, it was a clearing with several tents set up and what looked like a water pump and generator as well. A campfire was smouldering and your schoolmates sat around the fire in a circle on log seating.

“Well look who’s finally decided to join us. Not very nice to leave you behind, hm?” a man of middle age greeted. He was a bit taller than you, tan, with a mustache and a Hawaiian shirt. He kinda looked like Pedro Pascal and tom Sellicks love child.

“Oh don't worry, I made it all the same, just a slight luggage malfunction” you answered the older man.

“I see,” he extended his hand out to you, “I’m Tom Nook, curator of this internship. You must be Y/N.” So this middle aged man with the twinkle in his eye wearing a Hawaiian shirt and slides, was the shady capitalist that indoctrinated you all? Not quite what you had imagined and it relieved you, yet you were still apprehensive to trust him at all. All the same, you took his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Nook.”

#animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #fanfiction #fanfic #new horizons #acnh #x reader #reader insert

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sapphiretsuki · 5 years ago

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Road Trip Gone Right? <M>

Keeping my promise to myself here and writing. I am a heathen and start with a goal of like 1.5k max, but somehow I end at 4k. I’ll keep trying. T_T Also, in line with my self challenge I am again writing for a fandom outside my comfort zone. Loosely edited because its 1am and I’m tired :] @channiesmixtape Thank you again for your undying support, ilysm <3

Pairing: Felix x Y/N

Warnings: Uhhhhh, smut, oral, voice kink if you squint, nothing major really. Condoms. (safe sex is good sex too)

cr. to google for the lovely pic

It was the dreaded season of traveling and for whatever reason your school had decided that they weren't going to allow anyone to stay on campus over break. It was your tradition to bask in the quiet whilst all the other students went home and to friends and on trips, but not this year apparently. As if the universe were conspiring against you, your mother had also decided this was going to be the year that all the family, including by extension your best friends family, were all going to gather and celebrate the new year. Whatever. Why people wanted to celebrate that time was passing as it always did was beyond you, but that's how you found yourself in the front seat of your longtime friends car. Felix seemed just as dejected as you about the long drive and the mandatory mingling that was going to occur.

You and Felix had been quite the pair for as long as you could remember. You were about 7 when you met and you had saved him from some punk on the playground who thought being a little shithead was the way to be impressive. You kicked the little fucker in the shin and before you could follow through with a punch he was frantically scooting to run away. When you turned to check on what you thought was an adorable little girl you were met with a starry eyed Felix and he'd been your sidekick from that moment on. As fate would have it, he ended up being your next door neighbor. Gazing at his profile now while he was driving it struck you that at some point he'd grown to be quite masculine and incredibly striking. He always had been beautiful to you, but these days there was something more and you just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you reached out to turn on the radio. Maybe music would help whatever this feeling was. It was probably just anxiety over the long drive and the anticipation of being subjected to people you didn't get along with very well. You were unique and not quite the cookie cutter image of perfection that the rest of your cousins were and they never wasted an opportunity to let you know. As if sensing your thoughts, Felix's deep voice broke through the thoughts again, "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked. "Huh? Oh. It's nothing really. Just thinking about the cousins and wondering what brand of hell they'll try to subject me to. I haven't seen them since I started college you know."

His laughter rang out through the car and made you feel a bit better. "I'm sure that no matter what they try, you're still far smarter than them and a hell of a lot stronger too. Try not to worry Cheeks." At the mention of your special nickname you couldn't help but smile. A bit precocious growing up, and definitely the most vocal of the children, you'd earned the title of cheeky which had in turn affectionately turned into the nickname Cheeks. As much as you were dreading this visit, it made you feel infinitely better that Felix was going too. Not that he had any choice either. Just as you had become fast friends at a young age, your families had become some sort of hybrid family through strong friendship.

You must have finally relaxed enough to fall asleep at some point because you awoke with a bolt. There was a loud bang and Felix slammed on the breaks. "Shit, what the hell was that?" He put the car in park and turned the hazards on before turning to you and telling you to stay put. He pulled out his cellphone and turned on the flashlight before stepping out of the car. You anxiously watched him walk around the car and disappear as he squatted down. You were praying he hadn't hit some woodland creature because from the looks of it you were in the middle of nowhere and that was a very real possibility. You jumped as he tapped on your window. "Can you pop the trunk for me? We appear to have a flat." You nodded and unbuckled your belt and climbed over to the drivers side to hit the latch for the trunk. As you sunk back into your seat you could hear him digging around in the trunk. A flat wasn't so bad. Sure it wasn't ideal, but at least there would be no dead animals or screwed up undercarriages right?

Just as you were coming to terms with a small hiccup in the journey you heard another bang followed by a few expletives that made you quirk an eyebrow. That was unlike Felix. You were the one with the foul language problem. If he was cursing something must be terribly wrong. Curiosity getting the better of you, you snatched the keys out of the ignition and stepped out from the vehicle. "Whats going on short stack?" you called out as you approached the visibly frustrated man. "The spare has a crack in it. My roadside assistance doesn't have anyone that can help. They'll reimburse me, but we're going to have to call a tow and probably find somewhere to spend the night since I'm sure there isn't a garage open at this hour." Well shit. This was going to be a pain in the ass. "Okay, which part do you want me to start looking up? How about you figure out the tow situation and I'll see if theres a motel or something. Where are we even anyway?" you asked trying to laugh at the circumstance you found yourself in.

Two hours and a ride on the struggle bus with cellular service later you found yourselves in the lobby of a motel that made you feel like the star of a horror film. You were in some backwood town with a population of almost no one and there were nothing but trees for days. The receptionist or owner or whoever she was seemed friendly enough, but she also reminded you of a walking corpse. Her bony hand deposited a key into your palm and with a toothless grin she rasped out your room number. You thanked her and went to collect Felix and your bags and hightail it to somewhere with a lock on the door. This whole evening had made you feel uncomfortable and all you wanted was to sleep so morning could come and you could be back on your way. Funny that there was something that made you feel worse than spending time at home, but here you were.

Juggling your bag and the room key you were having trouble making the key go into the lock. A warm hand stopped yours from shaking and suddenly closer than you remembered him being, Felix silently took the key from you and ran his fingers over the back of your hand before inserting the key into the lock and opening the door. He gestured for you to go in first and continued to hold the door open as you pulled yourself together and stepped into the room. Feeling around on the wall you found the switch and flipped it. As the light flickered on, yes flickered, because your life obviously needed to resemble a horror movie down to the last detail you let out a groan as you looked around. There was only one bed. It was rather small also. You weren't sure it even qualified to be called a full. There was absolutely no way that you were going to have either one of you taking the floor though. You'd definitely indicated two beds at the desk, but something told you this wasn't a problem with a solution. The place was so ancient they still used key locks, and the lady downstairs looked like she came from 1900 directly. You turned to Felix as he was dragging your suitcases in to break the news to him.

"Looks like we're going to be revisiting our childhood tonight shorty. Theres only one bed and like hell either one of us is sleeping on the floor." His head snapped up from what he was doing to shoot you an incredulous look. "Y/n, I'm far from short anymore compared to you and that," he says pointing in the direction of the bed, "is not a bed. That's fit for a large child at best." You wondered what had him so obviously upset, but you chalked it up to the frustration of the situations that seemed to keep arising. "Felix, believe me, I realize this is less than ideal, but it's what we've got. We both have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, you especially, so we're just gonna have to suck it up and do what we gotta." You said placing a hand on your hip and turning your other palm up towards the ceiling in a gesture of both sass and nonchalance. "I'll see if theres a pizza joint or something in this town, why don't you go take a shower first? It'll help take some of the tension off." He nodded and went towards the bathroom while you dove into trying to get a signal to see if you could figure out food.

Miraculously after the fight of the century with your service you were able to locate pizza. Even better was that they delivered. Downside of the size of the town you were in was that the person on the other end of the phone knew exactly who you were, and described you as 'that poor stranded couple'. Well whatever, food was becoming more necessary by the minute since you'd relaxed a marginal amount and your stomach felt like it would eat itself. You were giddy with excitement and digging through your purse for some cash when Felix reappeared. You didn't notice him at first but when you looked up and there he was in nothing but a pair of low slung sweats with a towel hanging around his neck you let out an audible gulp. He quirked an eyebrow at you, but before he could question what your problem was, you snatched up some clothes and stuffed some money in his hand. "I'm amazing and pizza should be here any minute. I'm gonna go shower now. You don't have to wait for me to eat." You said to him as you brushed past and quickly made your way into the safety of the bathroom.

Once you shut the door, you placed a hand on your chest to calm the beating of your heart. What was wrong with you today? Sure it had been a while since you'd seen Felix shirtless. And wet. But it had never affected you like this before ever. It was like you were discovering that he wasn't the person you'd known most of your life. Just when had he gotten so toned? His lithe body was beautiful and always had been, but when had it also been appropriate to describe him as manly? Stepping into the scalding spray of the shower you prayed that you were just hungry and tired and it was making you crazy. Washing with a speed you normally reserved for things you disliked, you scrubbed away the filth of the day. Wrapping a towel around yourself you rubbed some of the fog off the mirror and after toweling your hair out as much as you could, ran a brush through it. You rubbed your skin vigorously and put on your tank top and realized you'd forgotten your panties. Laughing at the luck you'd had today you just shook your head and pulled on your pajama pants.

When you returned to the room the soft light and sounds of the TV accompanied Felix and his pizza. Belatedly you realized there wasn't likely to have been any sort of plates or anything to use and cursed yourself for not asking. Oh well, things still could have been far worse today so you were gonna stuff your face and call it a night before the bad luck that seemed to be following you around could claim any more of your energy. You plopped unceremoniously on to the bed next to Felix and snatched up a piece of pizza. As you took a bite you let out a moan at how delicious it was. "Really y/n, sometimes I think you'd be happiest with food in your hands at all times." Felix said, chest rumbling with laughter. Your face suddenly felt like it was on fire and you were oddly embarrassed even though this exact scenario had played out many times before. "I just love food and am hungry enough to eat a cow right now short stuff." You huffed out indignantly. Still slightly laughing Felix reassured you that it was fine and he was only making an observation. You felt jittery and nervous still even though you'd checked off all the things you thought were the culprits so you decided to initiate bedtime.

"I think we should get some sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow and we still have a lot of miles to cover." Felix seemed to mull over your statement before he nodded his agreement. He began to box up the remainder of the pizza and you went to brush your teeth. Making your way back to the room you heard Felix's phone chime and picked it up from the dresser it was sitting on to hand it to him. You weren't being nosy but you saw a name that made your blood boil a little bit. It was one of your catty cousins and now you were wondering what the fuck he was doing talking to her of all people. Unable to help yourself you spat out at him, "What are you doing talking to her?" As soon as the words were out you couldn't believe yourself and your hand flew up to cover your mouth in embarrassment. "You know what, I'm tired, never mind, disregard my craziness, I'm just gonna lay down. "As he stared at you with wide eyes, he responded anyway. "They occasionally text me trying to snoop I think. I just stored the name so I'd know to ignore because I made the mistake of answering a message once before." Well now you were feeling a whole lot more awkward. Deciding that there was safety in silence you simply nodded and laid down in the bed.

Getting under the covers you scooted as far to the side as you could. You weren't sure how you were going to handle being that close to Felix's shirtless body with the maelstrom going on inside your head but you were just going to have to try. Sliding under the covers and in turn being closer to you than you thought was explicitly necessary he pulled the blanket up over you both and whispered to you, "Good night Cheeks." His deep voice laced with a tired rasp sent a shiver down your spine and it hit you then like a bolt of lightning. Holy shit, you were in love with your best friend. Your best friend turned you on. Holy shit, what the fuck. Sleep was probably going to be a problem with your heart hammering away in your chest. Staying as still as you could so as to not draw attention to yourself you mentally went over all the signs trying to figure out when the hell this had happened. You thought Felix was asleep and you turned to look at him. His breathing had evened out and his plush lips were slightly parted. The moonlight coming through the window cast a soft light and made the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose look exceptionally gorgeous.

With his eyes still closed he shocked you when he began to speak. It was as if he could sense your restlessness even though you weren't moving at all. "I can feel your eyes y/n," he drawled and you went rigid. "Not to make things weird, or weirder, but I thought about you when I came last night." Now it was your turn to give the wide eyed stare. He cracked one eye and looked at you and slowly started to grin. "Y-you did?" you squeaked out. He turned to face you and it's not like you had anywhere to run, the bed was so tiny. You were close enough to feel his breath ghost over your face as he continued, "I thought I might have been imagining things but it seems you're just as affected by me Cheeks. You were calling me short stack still so I was a little unsure, but if you could have seen how hungry you looked earlier and I'm not talking about food." You should have known it was going to be a short lived secret but you were reeling that within such a short time of you realizing you had feelings and physical attraction he was calling you out on it. Felix had always known you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

What he didn't expect was that you wouldn't put up a fight about it. He was prepared to spell it out for your stubborn ass if need be, but you saved him the effort and planted your lips on his. You kissed him with all the hunger he described moments before and pulled away, chest heaving. "How long? How long have you known that we could have been doing this? How long have you been thinking about me when you cum?" You shoved him so he wasn't on his side anymore and climbed on top of him before he could do a thing about it. Looking at his face you were searching his eyes as if they held the answers. What you found instead was a look of lust so dark you couldn't do anything except seal your lips to his again. He didn't fight back and instead placed his hand on the back of your neck to turn your head slightly. He licked your bottom lip seeking entrance and you obliged. His plump lips felt so soft on yours and as his tongue swirled with yours you unintentionally found yourself grinding your hips into his as you let out a moan.

Felix also let out a groan at the friction and decided he'd had enough. He flipped you so your positions were switched and you found yourself again marveling at how manly was now how you'd describe him. Caged in between his arms he leaned down and nipped on your throat. Practically growling in your ear, his voice sent shivers down your spine. "I'll show you exactly what I was thinking about when I came if you want me to y/n." If you had been wearing underwear they would have been absolutely ruined. His voice was already one of your favorite sounds in the world, but right up in your ear making lewd suggestions had you feeling like you were coming unraveled. He placed open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat and reached to tug on your shirt. He pulled it up and helped you take it off only removing his mouth from your skin long enough to get it over your head. He continued down your chest and down to your hip where he hooked his fingers in the band of your pants. You lifted your hips so he could pull them down. "Well well, Cheeks, I never thought you'd go without panties, but that certainly makes things easier on me. He took a moment to appreciate your beauty and you found yourself feeling shy. He trailed a finger down your stomach and began to lightly tease your pussy until you were squirming with need. Just when you thought you couldn't take the teasing anymore he slid a finger into your slick folds and then into you.

"A-ah, Felix, more," you whined out. You were so turned on it was practically unbearable. He seemed pleased at your request and inserted another finger and started pumping in and out at a slow pace. He curled his fingers upward and began rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb as he picked up the pace. You began to feel the curling heat and tightening up in your stomach and knew you were going to cum. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he brushed past your sweet spot with every pump. Just when you thought you were about to completely lose it he pulled out and immediately attached his lush lips to your clit and sucked on it. Your orgasm washed over you like a waterfall and he held your stuttering hips in place as he worked you through your high. Feeling like the personification of bliss you reached down and ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed his way back up your chest and you pulled his face to yours to taste him.

"We're not done just yet, y/n. I still haven't shown you everything I was thinking about when I came." You had just barely come down from your high but you felt as if you could cum all over again at his suggestion. He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved his wallet and pulled out a condom. As he went to tear the foil you placed a hand on his wrist, "Can I?" You asked. He allowed you to take the packet from him and he pulled off his sweats. As his cock sprang free you were absolutely stunned. He was so much bigger than you thought he'd be and now you were wondering where he hid that and how it was going to fit. You grabbed at his dick and gave it a squeeze before rolling the condom down his shaft. He moved to lay you back down and lined his cock up with your entrance. He slid the head through the slippery remnants of your earlier undoing and every time he brushed your clit you twitched with need. Finally, finally he started to slide his cock into your warmth. Slowly at first, giving you plenty of time to adjust, he inched inside until he was all the way in. Buried to the hilt he stilled so you could get used to his size and then began to pump in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he began to pick up the pace.

He set a brutal pace and you gasped and panted. Your erotic voice was making him impossibly more turned on. As he thrust into you your cries of pleasure spurred him on. He shifted slightly and pulled your legs up so they were over his shoulders. The change in position allowed him to go deeper and with every pump he fully dragged across your g-spot and you felt the familiar ache starting to build again. He continued to thrust and reached out to rub one of your nipples. "Ahhh y/n. You look so beautiful. Look and the way your pussy just devours my cock. This is exactly, ah, what i was thinking about while I got myself off." His voice, and the pure filth coming out of his mouth were enough to send you over the edge. Your walls clamped and spasmed around him and you came on a cry of his name. "Ah F-Felix, fuck." His rhythm became sloppy as you rode out your high and soon he was spilling his release with a loud groan.

You were both sweaty, panting messes. As he began to soften up he slipped out of you and removed the condom. Tying it off he tossed it in the direction of the garbage can before returning to you and the bed. He wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you on the forehead. Before you could even get a word out his phone was chiming again. You gave him a look that said he should check it and so he grabbed it. It was your cousin again and you were struck with a brilliant idea. You knew it was probably partly them snooping like he thought, but there was also the knowledge that they were jealous of your relationship with Felix. "Lemme see your phone," you said with a smirk. He shrugged and handed it to you. You opened the camera and snapped a selfie of the two of you. Her message was some ‘what are you doing’ type thing so you sent the picture and then powered his phone off with a satisfied smile. He let out a little laugh at your antics and from your position with your head on his chest it was the best sound in the world.

Waking up much later than you intended, and certainly more sore, you reached to check the time on your phone. You were met with the family group chat notification count being astronomical, and also a notification from your favorite cousin. It read, 'I know that was you bitch'. With a smile you turned the phone towards Felix who was wondering what besides him had you so smiley this morning. You were rewarded with his eye smile and morning voice telling you, "You're something else Cheeks, but damn I love you."

#stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz smut #stray kids one shots #stray kids felix #lee felix #kpop smut #skz felix smut

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yandere-society · 5 years ago

Text

Reincarnate

Synopsis: ‘Taehyung hates his immortal life, rueing the day Namjoon blessed him with eternity. But now, a hundred years later, he stumbles across someone who he— who they— want to keep forever.’

Pairing: Taehyung × Fem!Reader × Namjoon

Genre: Inspired by Interview with a Vampire, Horror

Word Count: 7K

Admin: @chimchimsauce

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, descriptions of manipulation and physical harm. Please read with caution.

Rain patters peacefully against the large diner windows, blurring the lights of the cars passing by on the highway. The smell of cheap coffee wafts through the air as a tired-looking waitress wipes a rag over the empty countertop.

YN sighs, eyeing her own cup of now cold coffee and watery grits. She’s ordered almost an hour ago to calm her nerves about her upcoming interview. But with each minute that passes by, the reporter becomes more and more aware that the mysterious man on the phone had stood her up. She really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. She gets more prank calls than actual ones.

And yet, the disappointment is still there. The man who called her only this afternoon seemed much different from the giggling teenagers who claimed to have the latest scoop. His voice had been heavenly, enchanting even. Surely a voice like that couldn’t belong to a prankster.

Her rubbery eggs suggest otherwise.

Rising in anger (both at the mystery man for ditching and at herself for sitting here this long) YN begins to pack her bag, shoving notebooks and recorders into her small satchel before plopping two dollars on the table as a tip. When she turns to go, however, the woman nearly screams out in fright, startled by the stranger standing right in front of her.

Any snarky remark she intended on delivering falls dead on her tongue as her eyes widen, taking in the man before her. YN can confidently say in the twenty-four years she’s been alive, she’s never seen someone so beautiful. She openly stares at him, taking in his tall height, broad shoulders, large hands, and perfectly sculpted face. Even his attire is gorgeous. His fitted shirt hugs his body closely, jeans hanging on his waist loosely, ears pierced with sparkly silver jewelry.

This man belongs on a runway, not in a run-down diner under a highway.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he says jovially, not uncomfortable at the slightest due to her blatant staring.

“I - what?” YN asks, finally coming back to reality.

The stranger doesn’t respond, sliding into the other side of the booth and propping his head on his hands, looking at her endearingly. It causes color to rush to YN’s cheeks as she sits down just as quickly as she stood, trying to seem less frazzled than she really is.

“It’s okay,” the reporter says, finally putting two and two together and realizing that the handsome stranger was the one who called her, “Things happen,”

He smiles lazily, the expression sending YN’s heart into overdrive.

“Thanks for being so understanding,” he says with that beautiful voice of his, “I had a . . . prior engagement,”

His easy smile morphs into an amused one, making YN believe he’s referencing some inside joke she doesn’t understand.

“Would you like to order something? Coffee maybe?”

“I’m good, thank you,” he responds.

“Ah, well,” YN starts, trying to move on.

She really needs a story. The small newspaper she works for has had declining numbers this entire year. She’s afraid if she doesn’t write something spectacular, she’ll be laid off. YN rummages through her bag and sets up her recorder.

“You don’t mind, do you?” YN asks, looking up at the man.

He just shakes his head, the amused look on his face staying firm. It doesn’t quite sit right with her.

“You said you believe a vampire is behind the recent animal attacks that have been plaguing the town,” she asks once she’s certain that the device is recording.

She’s not one to waste time.

“Mmhm,” the man says, still grinning.

“And why is that, Mr . . .” YN trails off, realizing that she doesn’t know the man’s name.

He didn’t mention it earlier on the phone.

“Kim,” he says, “Kim Taehyung,”

For some inexplicable reason, that name seems familiar to her. She can’t tell where she’s heard it before, the memory lurking right out of her reach.

“Mr. Kim,” YN says, licking her suddenly parched lips, “You are aware that vampires are just myths, aren’t you? Especially around this season, it can be easy to blur the lines between fantasy and reality,”

For the first time since they’ve met, Taehyung’s eternal smile droops.

“Believe me, Beastie, vampires are most certainly real,”

“As fascinating as that would be to believe,” YN says, ignoring his strange conviction, “The attacks have been reported by the authorities as animal attacks. It’s not uncommon for a wolf to wander into town, considering Mistyhollow is completely surrounded by woods.”

Mistyhollow, the town YN grew up in, as the most uninteresting place on Earth. Even as a child, the sleepy town made YN restless, made her want to escape and see the real world. College had been that escape for her, but once both of her parents passed away in a freak accident, YN had no other choice but to come back and sort everything out.

The guilt is what made her stay. Her parents had been driving up to surprise her for her birthday when a semi-truck came out of nowhere and totaled their car and took both of them out of this world. YN couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility, couldn’t turn her back of the town her parents loved.

So now, five years later, YN is still stuck here at this place, chasing adventure the only way she knows how.

“No animal has the prowess to kill the exact same way every time. Every person who was murdered died because of a fatal wound right here,”

The man - Taehyung - places two of his long fingers over his jugular.

“How did you know that?” YN asks, bewildered.

That information hadn’t been released to the public. The only way YN knows it to be true is because the chief of police - an old friend of her father’s - mentioned it to her when he came over to check on her last weekend. The large spike in murders caused the middle-aged man to worry for her safety, especially since he had taken it upon himself to watch over her ever since her parents passed.

“Because I know who killed them,” Taehyung says breezily and without a care in the world.

YN’s heartbeat skyrockets. She’s never seen Taehyung before tonight and Mistyhollow is small enough that she knows almost everyone. There’s a very real possibility that he indeed was the one to kill all those people or that he’s in cahoots with them.

The woman’s fear must be evident in her expression because Taehyung continues.

“Don’t be afraid. There won’t be any more murders in this town after tonight,” he tries (and fails) to soothe her.

YN stands up, story be damned. She’s not sitting next to a murderer for one second longer.

But before she can even blink, Taehyung is in front of her, cold hand wrapped around her wrist. His grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to prevent her escape.

“Off so soon, miss LN? I haven’t even given you my story yet,”

Taehyung is incredibly bemused, YN’s growing terror causing him to smile.

“Let me go,” she demands, trying to free herself, “Or I’ll scream,”

“Go ahead,” Taehyung offers, not moving an inch.

The coldness seems to spread throughout her body the longer he’s touching her.

YN doesn’t hesitate. She screams at the top of her lungs, the sound sharp and shrill, every ounce of fear forcing its way out.

But nothing happens. No one comes running as she’d hoped they would. It’s at this moment that YN realizes that the two of them are all alone.

“I came here to be interviewed,” Taehyung says, “It’s incredibly rude to run out on me, especially since I had to travel such a long distance,”

“Please don’t kill me,” YN pleads, her voice barely above a whisper.

She’s terrified, completely frozen in place.

“Kill you?” Taehyung asks as if the thought had never occurred to him, “Of course not, beastie. I’d never hurt you,”

His words are much too loving for the situation they’re currently in.

“Then what do you want from me?” YN asks, brain coming up with a million different scenarios, some even worse than death.

“I just want you to listen to me. Is that so much to ask?”

“N-no,” YN says, willing to go along with whatever he says until she can figure out a way to escape.

“Good. It’s nice to see you obedient for once, Beastie,” Taehyung says, guiding her back to her spot in the booth and finally releasing her.

She knows that another attempt to run would not be smart.

“Now where were we,” Taehyung asks, settling back in, “Ah, right. You don’t believe in vampires. I don’t blame you. I didn’t either. Not at first,”

“Do you have any proof?” YN forces herself to ask, continuing to play her role.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, thinking.

“You know, I think I’d like to order something after all,”

And just like that, the waitress reappears from the kitchen, approaching the table as normal, as if she hadn’t heard YN scream only moments ago. The reporter is completely stunned. The waitress doesn’t even look at her. She’s standing too stiffly for her stance to appear normal, a dazed, glazed look in her eyes.

“Hi, doll,” Taehyung regards the lady with a patronizing tone even though she’s old enough to be his mother, “I’ll take a cup of coffee,”

As the waitress walks away, YN notices the two puncture wounds in her neck, right where all the other victims had been attacked. Her mouth dries out as she tries to swallow, noticing the blood oozing from the wounds. When she’s finally able to tear her eyes from the sight, her eyes connect with Taehyung’s.

“Persuasion works really well right after I bite someone,” he says casually, dragging his tongue across his lengthened canines, “She’ll be fine soon enough,”

YN is silent, struggling to process what’s going on.

Vampires are real. Vampires have been behind the mass murders in town. The man in front of her is a vampire.

For some reason, it isn’t nearly as difficult to accept as she’d thought.

“Why tell me this?” YN finds herself asking as the waitress hands Taehyung his coffee.

He swaps his fresh cup for YN’s cold one.

“You wanted a story didn’t you, Beastie?” Taehyung asks, “So I’m going to tell you a story. Listen well and drink that coffee, we’re gonna be here a while.”

The day was sunny. Taehyung never knew how much he would grow to hate sunny days. It was sunny when a snake shot out and bit his new wife, sickening her until she faded away like snow in spring, taking their unborn child with her.

The funeral was held on a sunny day. Taehyung’s tears and bloodshot eyes did not match the warm green grass and cheerful birds. And so he retreated into his too big, too empty house, unaware of the calculating eyes watching his every move.

Time went by in a haze of bar fights and blowing his money in the whore house, desperate to feel something - anything. But no matter what the twenty-three-year-old did, all he felt was empty. He’d loved his wife so completely that her death seemed to destroy him as well.

It was another one of those nights where the man was drunk just as the sky turned dark, getting yelled at for cheating at the game of cards he’d just won. Staggering, Taehyung stumbles to his feet, raising his fists for another fight. But before the seething man across from him can sock him in the throat, someone pulls him away, spewing apologies to the other man and hurrying the both of them away before Taehyung can cause even more trouble.

Taehyung doesn’t even bother to look at who his savior is. The world is spinning too much for him to care about anything. His shoes catch on the ground, causing him to lurch forward only to be rescued by the stranger at the last second. The sudden change in momentum is the final straw for Taehyung. He gags before puking all over himself and the floor, probably getting some on the stranger based on the sound of displeasure he makes.

The stranger drops Taehyung, the man landing in a heap on the ground. Taehyung groans but doesn’t complain, content being trash on the side of the road.

“Honestly,” the stranger begins, “You’re quite a mess, aren’t you, Taehyung,”

He crouches beside Taehyung, finally giving the drunk a look at his face.

The stranger is handsome, tall and poised. The smile on his face is wicked and mischievous causing Taehyung’s heart to sink to his stomach.

“You even ruined my coat,” he says, tutting slightly as if scolding a small child, “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,”

“Who are you?” Taehyung asks, the feeling of danger boiling in his stomach.

There’s something off about this man, something sinister.

“Why, I’m your guardian angel,” he says, lips stretching even farther in an unnatural grin.

“Tell me,” he continues once it’s clear that Taehyung has no desire to reply, “Do you want to die?”

“Yes,” the fallen man says quickly, startling himself.

It’s a thought that has been bouncing around his skull ever since his wife died, ever since he realized how alone and miserable he’s been.

“Say your prayers, then,” the stranger says.

In the blink of an eye, the other man is on him, hand tangling into his hair and yanking his head to the side, exposing his neck. Pain radiates through Taehyung as long fangs force their way into his neck, red hot pain shooting through his nervous system.

Taehyung tries to scream but the sound is muffled by the stranger’s hand. The vampire’s eyes flutter closed as he draws in mouthful after mouthful, a near euphoric sensation causing a moan to get caught in his throat.

This desperate man has some of the best blood the vampire’s ever tasted and he’s going to drain him dry.

Despite claiming that he wanted to die only moments ago, Taehyung fights back as best he can, feebly punching at the man and trying to dislodge his fangs from his throat. Prey fighting back usually annoys the vampire but he finds himself in a good mood, pulling away to look Taehyung in the eyes.

“I thought you wanted to die,” he says, amusement lacing his tone as his tongue darts out and licks his bloodstained teeth clean, “Have you changed your mind?”

Taehyung nods as best he can, fiercely glaring at the vampire with a passion that makes the other’s toes curl in delight. He’s going to be a lot of fun.

“Let me cut you a deal, then,” the vampire begins, “I’ll save you, make you like me, but you’ll be mine. Do you understand?”

Taehyung nods again, his world slowly turning black.

And then the vampire is on him again, draining him nearly dry before using his fang to tear into his own wrist, placing his dripping arm up to the dying man and forcing him to drink. Taehyung soon becomes greedy, grasping onto the stranger with as much strength as he has, trying to pull more of the pure power into him.

“That’s enough,” the stranger says, attempting to pull away.

Turning someone else always drains his energy.

Taehyung doesn’t respond, trying to keep drinking his blood. Growing angry, the stranger rips Taehyung off of him, raising both of them into the air and over the neighboring harbor, his clawed hands coming up to strangle him.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he growls out, eyes as dark as pitch, “I’m the one in charge. Don’t test me,”

And with that, he drops Taehyung into the water.

“The vampire who changed me is named Namjoon,” Taehyung says, watching YN’s hands tremble as she tries to drink the coffee as he told her too, “He’s an insufferable bastard. Manipulative, selfish, mean. I hated him,”

“Then why,” YN begins, “Did you have him save you?”

Her question is hesitant. She’s equally afraid of asking the wrong thing and asking nothing at all.

“I had no idea what my life would turn into,” Taehyung says, a faraway look in his eyes, “If I’d known how it would go, I would have had him kill me . . . or maybe I wouldn’t have,”

His statement is confusing but YN doesn’t push any further.

“My new life began once I crawled out of the water like a drowned rat. I didn’t notice anything different at first. Namjoon wasn’t there and besides an intense ache in my throat, I didn’t feel any better. So I hauled my ass home,”

He pauses. YN gets the impression that talking about his transformation isn’t something Taehyung enjoys doing. It makes her question why he’s forcing this interview.

“The full moon is when it happened. The blood finally took over me. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I had escaped into the night and stumbled my way to the cemetery in my back yard. It was a rather morbid time if I think about it,”

“When was this?”

“Seventeen ninety-one,” he replies.

YN tries to hide her shock. The man in front of her is hundreds of years old.

She must have failed because he laughs slightly.

“I’ve aged rather well, haven’t I, Beastie?”

She nods numbly.

“And then the change came. Namjoon appeared. He watched me be ripped apart from the inside and put back together without even flinching. It felt like an eternity, but it was probably a few hours at most. It was still dark when I awoke,”

“What was different?” YN asks, continuing to play her role.

If she somehow manages to escape this diner, she’ll be able to say that she actually had an interview with a vampire.

“Everything,” he says breathlessly, “Everything I thought I knew to be true was a lie. Being human is seeing the world through a filtered, muddied window. Becoming a vampire was like removing the lense. Everything is clearer, sharper,” he lifts his head up, staring at the ceiling, “I can see every flake of paint, every dust molecule drifting through the air. I can hear your heartbeat and the cars on the highway a hundred miles from here,”

“That seems,” YN begins, searching for the right word, “Overwhelming,”

“It was. My whole world had shifted on its axis and started spinning the opposite way,”

Taehyung lay gasping, struggling to pull in air for his burning lungs.

“You can give that up,” Namjoon says, appearing from wherever he’d been hiding and landing softly on the dirt next to Taehyung, “Your lungs don’t work anymore. Stop trying to breathe,”

Seeing as it felt as if the new vampire was suffocating he does as told, holding his breath until his lungs stop screaming.

“You don’t need to breathe any longer,” Namjoon says, leaning over the crumpled Taehyung with a grin on his face, “But I imagine you’re rather hungry,”

It’s as if the words ignited a thirst in Taehyung. He began to claw at his throat as it burned, the need for blood overcoming him.

“Let’s go hunt, shall we? I wouldn’t want my new companion to die of thirst,” Namjoon says jovially, helping Taehyung up and dusting his clothes off.

“You can at least try to be presentable,” he scolds, “You are the head of an estate. You must look the part,”

“How did you know that?” Taehyung asks, eyes taking in all of the new sights and scents he hadn’t been able to register before.

“I know everything,” Namjoon says dismissively.

“Now,” he continues, clapping his hands together, “Follow me,”

And with those final words, Namjoon speeds off. If Taehyung had still been human, he wouldn’t have been able to see him. But his new vampiric sight allowed him to see every step the other took, every swish of his hair as he ducked and dodged branches.

With the thirst growing stronger every second, Taehyung follows him, eager for the feeling to go away. It doesn’t take him long to catch up with Namjoon despite running headfirst into a couple of trees as he tried to get used to his new speed.

Surprisingly, Namjoon doesn’t tease or scold him. The elder vampire simply crouches down at the edge of the forest, looking out into a clearing where a small, shoddily put together house stands. Light blinks in one of the thin windows, Taehyung’s new sight allowing him to make out the candle and the wax that slowly slides down the side.

“Tell me,” Namjoon asks, voice so quiet it would be undetectable by humans, “What do you hear?”

The question annoys Taehyung. He just wants to quench his thirst. But something tells him that Namjoon could end him easily if he stepped out of line. So he obliges, closing his eyes to try and better hear. He picks up the sound of three heartbeats.

“People,” he says, finally, “I hear their heartbeats,”

“Very good,” Namjoon praises, “How many?”

“Three?”

“Wonderful. You’re doing very well, pet. Soon enough you’ll be able to tell even more about prey before you’re anywhere near them. But those skills come with practice. Let’s go eat, hm? The blood in these humans isn’t nearly as delicious as some others, but it will do for now.”

Before any reasonable part of his brain can stop him, Taehyung rushes after Namjoon as they make their way over to the house.

“Now we could just break in and drain them,” Namjoon says to the salivating Taehyung, “But there isn’t any fun in that. Hunting is an art form. Watch.”

The suave vampire raps his knuckles on the door. When it isn’t immediately answered, he knocks again, this time harder. Shuffling can be heard in the small cabin as someone stirs awake, taking the lit candle and peeping through the door hesitantly.

“Hello,” the man begins, clearly confused as to why he has visitors at this late hour.

“Hello,” Namjoon says, barely containing his smile, “My companion and I,” he grips the slightly disheveled Taehyung, pulling him closer, “Were wondering if you could perhaps allow us to stay the night at your wonderful home. You see, we’ve become quite lost and -”

The human slams the door in their faces before Namjoon can even finish. He snarls at the door.

“How rude! And to think, I was going to kill him first so he didn’t have to watch his wife and child die first. Do you see what I get for being so kind?” Namjoon rants, turning to Taehyung.

It’s clear that he wants him to agree. Taehyung nods. The thirst grows more each moment. It’s all he can focus on.

“I’ll draw it out then. Alright,” Namjoon says, ripping the door entirely off of its hinges.

The screaming inside is instant. Namjoon pounces upon the man from earlier, sinking his teeth deep into his flesh. The wife scrambles to protect the screaming child, a boy of eleven or so. But Taehyung is too far gone to process his actions. In the blink of an eye, the new vampire has the woman pinned against the wall, hands squeezing her neck so tightly that it breaks, killing her mid-scream. Taehyung’s mouth aches as fangs push through his gums and find their way into the woman’s shoulder, pulling in mouthful after mouthful. He isn’t sure how long it takes but soon enough her body is completely drained.

The blinding thirst has absolved quite a bit, but it still taunts him, still calls for him to drink more. So he turns to the crying child huddled in the corner, barely registering the joy in Namjoon’s face and the horror in the man’s as he’s forced to watch.

The child doesn’t have a chance. Taehyung bites his shoulder, growing annoyed as he struggles and screams loudly. Without pulling away, he reaches a hand up and crushes his skull, effectively silencing him. After draining him completely, Taehyung licks the streams of blood off his ruined face, sighing in relief at the fullness he feels.

It’s only then when he registers what he’s done.

“My humanity was gone,” Taehyung says, watching the expressions on YN’s face. “Namjoon and I went on a violent killing spree for the first month after my transformation. We killed everyone we came across,”

YN swallows.

How many people must he have killed? Taehyung is over two hundred years old. The number has got to be in the thousands.

“And after I settled into my transformation, once I was free from the desire for blood constantly hanging over my head, I began to hate what I was, what I choose to become. I am a murderer. I steal the lives of innocent people just so I can creep through the night forever. But I could not freely express these emotions. Namjoon was extremely temperamental back then. One wrong word and he’d have me pinned against the ceiling,”

YN chews her lip. She wants to ask more about the relationship between the two men but she also doesn’t want to end up dead on the floor.

“Go ahead, Beastie,” Taehyung prompts, staring at her with eyes too beautiful to belong to a soulless creature such as himself, “Ask your question,”

YN’s cheeks heat up. He’d caught her off guard.

“What exactly . . . was your relationship? With Namjoon?”

Her words are hesitant.

The vampire seems to think for a moment.

“Companions, I suppose,” he says after a pause, “Sometimes more. Often times less. Namjoon always wanted something. He changed me because I had the ability to amuse him. He’d been watching me for quite a while. Namjoon knew the money and influence I held and wanted it for himself. I was nothing more than a plaything for him in the beginning,”

“That sounds toxic,”

“That’s not even the half of it,” he says, laughing a little.

YN supposes that it’s been long enough that he can laugh about it.

“Eventually I grew tired of it,” Taehyung says, becoming more serious, “Namjoon was so happy and I was even more miserable than I was as a human. And one day at dinner I just snapped,”

“Your servants are great cooks. Too bad I can’t enjoy any of the food,” Namjoon says, poking a turkey with a solid silver fork.

A golden goblet sits to his right, filled to the brim with blood. Namjoon’s ringed fingers daintily wrap around the glass’ stem, bringing it to his mouth, his lips painted ruby.

Taehyung sits opposite him, his own glass still full. He cringes internally, thinking of the servants Namjoon put under persuasion to go into the town and kidnap people, only to lock them in the cellar to be used as personal blood bags.

Namjoon shares none of this guilt, jovially chatting away and enjoying his expensive clothes, all bought with Taehyung’s money.

“The decor in here is a little dated, don’t you think, pet? So last century. I say we redecorate,”

“You say a lot,” Taehyung spits, unable to hold his tongue for a moment longer.

Namjoon’s happy expression hardens.

“Oh?”

It’s a challenge, clear as day.

Normally Taehyung would back down immediately, but he’s had enough.

“But you never say anything important. All you do is ramble on and on. Don’t you ever get tired of yourself? I certainly do,” Taehyung snaps.

It feels good to let it all out.

The fork Namjoon had been holding bends in half in his grip.

“You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that?” Namjoon says, struggling to keep his cool, “I give you eternal life and you treat me like this?”

“I’d rather be dead,” Taehyung says, glaring at his ‘savior’.

“That can be arranged,”

And with that, Namjoon launches himself over the table and at Taehyung. The younger vampire was ready, however, and soon a brawl broke out. The two of them completely trashed the banquet hall, Taehyung knocking over a candle and setting the luxurious rug on fire.

The vampires don’t notice, continuing to fight each other viciously. It’s only when the ceiling begins to fall around them that they break away and escape the house fire.

It’s chaos outside as servants scream and search for each other.

“Look what you did,” Namjoon growls, his fancy clothes charred, no longer looking even close to their original glory, “Look what you ruined!”

Taehyung pays his creator no mind, watching his home burn to the ground. It sends a bolt of satisfaction through him. That house was where all his happy memories were, where his human life occurred. It should be turned into ashes, just like his soul has been.

“Weren’t you sad that you lost your home?” YN asks.

By now her coffee is completely empty. She grows slightly more courageous as every minute passes. It’s probably the caffeine.

“It felt liberating. That home was where my old life lived. Being there after being turning was another level of torture I hadn’t known I’d been suffering through until it was gone. Abd the look on Namjoon’s face was absolutely worth it,”

“What happened next?” YN asks him.

She’s beginning to get sucked into the story. It almost seems like a demented fairytale.

“We were penniless. Our days of grand parties and servants were over. I had expected Namjoon to abandon me, but I think he realized sticking around would be the perfect payback for ruining his carefully thought out plan,”

Taehyung taps his fingers against the diner table absentmindedly. He comes back to himself, waving a finger in the air to summon the waitress who promptly refills YN’s coffee.

“Thank you,” the reporter murmurs.

Taehyung smiles again, some unreadable emotion hiding behind his eyes.

“For some time,” he continues his tale, “The two of us wandered about, draining people and using their belongings for as long as we could,”

YN winces.

“I know. It was awful. But at the time, there didn’t seem to be anything else we could do. And then it got even worse,”

“How?” YN asks, fingers warm from her cup.

“A sickness came. It was still the time where one person being sick could take a whole town with them. So of course, the blood quality fell tremendously. Vampires can’t contract illnesses, but diseased blood can make us weaker. It was then,” Taaehyung says, locking eyes with the girl in front of him, “that we met her,”

“Her? Who?” YN asks, feeling entirely naked under his intense gaze.

“Elizabeth,” he says with a fondness reserved for those dearest to his heart.

His entire form brightens considerably.

The town around them looks like it got hit by a tornado. Houses are empty and decrepit, windows cracked and door ripped off of their hinges. Crappy, poorly assembled carriages are turned over in the streets.

“Oh great,” Namjoon says as the two vampires make their way through the ghost town, “Everyone’s already dead,”

The elder vampire steps on a dead body, kicking it over with a pout on his face.

“You whine so much,” Taehyung says, peeping into an abandoned house, seeing if anything is able to be salvaged.

He’s rummaging through a set of drawers, only finding old papers and nicknacks.

“You’re a bad luck charm. I’m sure of it,” Namjoon complains, destroying a wall with a half-assed punch.

“Why are you still here then? You’re absolutely welcome to leave,”

“Oh please,” Namjoon says, laying himself over the younger, “You love me too much for me to leave,”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as they continue going through town, looking for people to drain. By the time they’ve reached the final house, hope is almost entirely lost. It’s been a few days since either of them has had blood, weakening the both of them.

As they enter the last house weak footsteps can be heard.

A willow of a girl steps into sight. Her cheeks are sunk in and her body is so thin that it’s obvious that she hasn’t eaten in a long time. Her skin is dirty and caked in dirt, clothes nearly falling off of her. Taehyung guesses that she’s a teenager.

“Can you,” she begins, “Help my mother?”

Taehyung’s eyes are drawn from her form to the dead body curled up on a stack of straw mats.

“She’s ill,”

A pang of sympathy surges through Taehyung.

“Your mother’s dead,” Namjoon tells the girl bluntly, “And you will be too in just a few moments,”

Before he can attack, Taehyung holds his arm in front of Namjoon’s chest, stopping him.

“Don’t,” he says.

Something about the girl is so innocent and sweet. The sudden urge to protect her overwhelms him.

“You want to kill her?” Namjoon asks, surprised.

Taehyung almost always attacks people over the age of thirty. It helps ease his guilt.

“Leave her,” Taehyung says.

She’s trembling now, huddled next to her mother’s corpse. He pities her. He’d done the same thing when his wife died forty years ago.

A sudden, wicked smile emerges on Namjoon’s perfect face.

“I’ll tell you what,” he begins, not even trying to hide the scheming tone in his voice, “I’ll give you two options. Either you turn her,” he pauses, always one for dramatics, “Or I’ll kill her,”

“No,” Taehyung nearly growls out.

He isn’t sure why but the thought of her death makes him angry. Namjoon has obviously picked up on it and is using that sudden determination to manipulate him.

No matter what, some things never change.

“Try and stop me,” the elder says with a cocky grin.

Even though Taehyung has been a vampire for decades, he’s not nearly as strong as Namjoon. Their numerous fights always end with Namjoon winning and boasting about it for weeks afterward.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smells absolutely divine, the blood thumping just barely under her skin calling to him. He glances once more at Namjoon before approaching the frightened girl.

“What’s your name?” he begins, crouching down next to her.

“E-Elizabeth,” she stutters out.

Taehyung smiles at her sweetly, trying to calm her down so she’s not as frightened for what’s to come.

“Don’t worry, little Elizabeth,” Taehyung says, “You won’t feel the pain for much longer,”

Her eyes are blown wide as Taehyung opens his mouth wider than what should be possible, his sharp fangs glittering in the moonlight filtering in through the broken window. A scream gets caught in the girl’s throat as his fangs sink into her skin.

Her blood is the best he’s ever tasted. His eyes roll back in his head as she struggles against him. Taehyung wraps his arms around her frail body, careful not to crush her bird bones. The blood is almost too delicious to stop but Taehyung pulls away just in time, force-feeding her his own blood as Namjoon had all those years ago.

Namjoon watches with a satisfied grin on his face, loving the way he can jerk the younger around and bend him to his will.

Because the full moon is tonight, Elizabeth’s transformation is nearly instantaneous. Taehyung watches as her cheeks fill out and regain a healthy, youthful glow. Her hair becomes shiny and her cracked, dirty nails grow to a dainty length.

She’s beautiful.

“Are transformations always this stunning?” Taehyung asks Namjoon, looking at the elder in wonder.

“I’m not sure. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to successfully change,” he says, “But you became so beautiful,: Namjoon says, voice trailing off as he looks at his companion.

Despite the way they always fight and generally have a giant distaste for each other, Taehyung holds a special place in Namjoon’s cold, dead heart. He feels more alive when the other one is around.

The moment is broken when the girl gasps loudly, waking up.

“I loved her,” Taehyung says, “We both did. She was the breath of fresh air we needed in our lives. We bonded over her presence, but we . . . disagreed over how we should teach her,”

Taehyung takes a breath, looking at the face he adores, noticing how it’s ever so slightly different than before. She’s older than she ever got before, her face a little slimmer, her stature a little taller.

“Soon after we found and changed Elizabeth, there was a boat expedition we managed to sneak onto. Namjoon managed to convince Elizabeth to help him rob some of the richer passengers. While I didn’t agree - robbing from the living is quite different than robbing from the dead - it was enough to set us up with a new life,”

YN is quiet, obviously thinking over his story. Taehyung indulges her, remaining silent as well. If he’s learned anything in his time on earth, it’s how to be patient. Even though she doesn’t know it, Taehyung would never hurt her.

“Was it better? Were you happier once you became reestablished again?”

“The wealth didn’t make much of a difference to me,” Taehyung says honestly, “But Namjoon was ecstatic. And so was Elizabeth. Her entire human life had been lived in squalor, so it was just as foreign as her new abilities. It made Namjoon so happy to spoil her. He’d order new dresses to be made almost weekly and always bought her anything her heart desired,”

He speaks of those times fondly, almost happily. It stirs something in her heart.

“But it made her meaner - crueler. And I couldn’t help but get jealous. She was mine. I’d turned her, I was the one who saved her. And yet Namjoon was jeopardizing her time. So I sweet-talked him, played into his ego and greed and got him to spend more time away from the house. He got into stocks and business, stealing from rich business owners while smiling at them.

“Were you together with her? With Elizabeth?”

“I suppose. Nearly,” Taehyung says, pain evident in his tone and facial expression, “We spent so much more time together. For the first time since meeting my wife, I really connected with someone on a deeper level. We would lay together and just talk about whatever. We’d speculate about the future, talk about how we wanted the world to change. I loved her more than anything and I know she loved me too. But then,”

He falls silent again.

“We’d managed to catch the attention of a local cult. One of the leaders worked with Namjoon and convinced him to bring me to a meeting. We’d expected a normal meeting but were subdued with silver chains and taken hostage. But that wasn’t what made me - us so angry. They’d taken Elizabeth. Took her from our safe home and forced her into captivity,”

YN reaches out to the vampire, surprising both of them when her warm hand touches his cold one. She moves to snatch it away but Taehyung quickly interlaces their fingers, preventing her from moving at all.

“They tortured her,” Taehyung spits bitterly, “And then murdered her right in front of our eyes. They pushed her out into the sun and made us watch as she disintegrated,”

“I’m so sorry,” YN says, heart going out to him.

She knows exactly how it feels to lose a loved one.

“They got what they deserved. Someone slipped up and Namjoon and I were able to escape. We slaughtered them all and set their lair on fire,”

YN squeezes his cold hand, all the fear she’d had at the beginning of his tale gone completely,

“Namjoon and I grew closer after losing her. It was devastating to both of us. We were the only comfort the other had. We’d both lost a lover, a companion . . . a friend. We had to become those for each other. But even still, it was a loss we couldn’t recover from,”

“How long ago was it?” YN asks.

Time does not heal all wounds but it does make it easier to cope.

“About a hundred years,” he pauses, “But something happened recently. I don’t think we’ll feel that pain anymore,”

“Why?”

A ding catches YN’s attention. She’s surprised to see another man, this one even taller than Taehyung. Hs grins at her with a dimpled smile.

“Hello, pet,” he says, voice sending a shiver down the reporter’s spine.

Taehyung doesn’t even look behind him, relaxing instantly.

“Hello, Namjoon,”

YN’s heart rate picks up rapidly. In the blink of an eye, he’s standing right in front of the table.

“I got impatient,” he says, speaking to Taehyung but looking at YN with a smile so wide her stomach flips.

“I’m not surprised,” the other vampire responds.

Something tells YN that there is no chance of escape.

“Make it quick,” YN says, closing her eyes and feeling breathless, “Please,”

She doesn’t want to face her death with open eyes.

There’s movement around her. YN squeezes her fists together.

But no fangs enter her skin. When she opens her eyes, both Namjoon and Taehyung are looking at her fondly.

“We’ve missed you so much, Beastie,” Namjoon says, eyes dialed.

“I - what?” YN asks, confused and terrified.

“I never believed in reincarnation. But here you are. Our sweet little angel,”

All at once, it rushes back to her. The soft way Taehyung had spoken over the hours, the nickname, the way he looked at her.

“I don’t - no,” YN says, shaking her head, trying to run but getting surrounded immediately.

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon says, “You learned to love us once. You can do it again,”

Her voice dies in her throat as two pairs of fangs approach her, sinking into either side of her throat. As the world turns dark, YN hears one a singular sentence.

“You won’t leave us ever again.”

#yandere bts #yandere x reader #taejoon #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #vampire bts #vampire au #namjoon x taehyung

1K notes · View notes

thebluenoteblog · 5 years ago

Text

Just a Number

Summary: While celebrating a win with the team, you overhear a conversation that you really wish you hadn’t heard.

Player: Joel Edmundson

Word Count: 2k

*I’ve never written the Hurricanes before, but I did my best.*

Requested: Can you do a Colton parayko or Joel edmundson one where they have a age gap (reader is 21-23) and on day at a party you hear his friends talking about the age gap and you also hear him not defend your relationship and you leave and when he comes back he sees a blanket and pillow on the couch and the bedroom door is locked and you tell him what he did and you ignore him when he tries to talk to you but that next morning you go downstairs and he runs to you and says he sorry and you guys make up

You were never much of a party person. However, there was no denying that your boyfriend was the definition of life of the party. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself in one of Raleigh’s bars late into the night after a game celebrating a win with the boys and their girlfriends. It wasn’t your favorite pastime. You would much rather be curled on the couch with a good book and a nice glass of wine than sloppy drunk on a Wednesday night. You managed though.

You were managing your way through your second beer of the night when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You weren’t gone long. Three, maybe four minutes. The boys and their girlfriends were all pretty far gone though, so their social skills were basically nonexistent at this point.

You paused a table away, still able to hear their too loud voices clearly over the bustle of the bar. “I don’t understand how you do it man.”

“I could never date someone that much younger than me, I would feel like I was babysitting all the time.”

A round of laughs and no defense from Joel, he was laughing right along with them. You should have made your presence know. You should have walked up to the table and stopped them from making asses of themselves. You couldn’t make yourself. The temptation of finding out what they truly thought of your relationship, what Joel truly thought of your relationship, was to strong.

So, you stood partially concealed behind a group of men and listened.

“You’ve got to think about this. You’re at totally different points in your life, man.”

You watched as Joel nodded and took another drink of his beer.

He wasn’t wrong. You were getting your college degree and Joel was traveling North America playing in the NHL making millions. That had nothing to do with the age gap though, it would have been the same story whether you were twenty-one or twenty-six.

“You aren’t really planning on staying with her, are you?”

You didn’t want to hear the answer to that question. You already had your purse, so you turned and walked out the door before he had time to answer. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving. You didn’t want them to see the tears in your eyes. Childish? Yes. Why did that matter? You’d done everything you could to prove yourself to them and still, none of it mattered. So you walked down the street, ordered an Uber from a McDonalds and waited.

****

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Joel asked, craning his neck to look around the bar.

Sebastian turned his head, joining him in the search, “I don’t see her.”

“Could she still be in the bathroom?” Petr asked, “She isn’t out here.”

“It’s been like fifteen minutes,” Joel said, though his concept of time was skewed by alcohol and it had been much longer then fifteen minutes. He started to stand from his chair, “I’m more worried about something having happened to her between here and the bathroom.”

Sara put out a hand, as the soberest person at the table she was thinking the clearest. “Sit down, I’ll go check the bathroom. I don’t think they would take to kindly to you walking into the women’s restroom.”

She stood and walked off, Joel leaned back in his chair bouncing his leg and pealing at the sticker on his bottle. “Man, she’s fine.” Haydn said from beside him, “stop freaking out.”

Joel didn’t take his eyes off the bottle, just nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Haydn? Right about something? It’s a miracle.” Sebastian said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Haydn threw a straw wrapper at him and he swatted it away without much effort.

“Sara’s coming back,” Petr said, nodding his head through the crowd.

She took a seat with her lips pressed together and said, “She wasn’t in there, or anywhere along the way. Did you try calling her?”

He quickly placed his beer on the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The phone rang once, twice, then voicemail. He pulled it away from his ear and stared at it. He was feeling really fucking sober by that point.

He tried again. Straight to voicemail. He looked up at the rest of the group, “Straight to voicemail.”

They all looked around at each other, concerned. “Do you share you share your locations with each other?” Sara asked.

Joel nodded, a little bit of the panic leaving his face as he pulled out his phone and went to the app. No Location Found. “Her phone is turned off.” He looked up, eyes wide, “What do you do when someone goes missing in a bar?”

“Do you think maybe she just left?” Haydn asked. “Like maybe she just went home?”

Joel shook his head, “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just leave and not say anything.”

“Eddy, it’s a hell of a lot more likely that she went home than that she got kidnapped in a crowded bar and no one noticed.” Haydn said, “We’ll stay here, you go back to the apartment and see if she’s there.”

He pushed his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to think logically through the panic and what was left of the alcohol in his system. “Okay.” He said eventually, “Okay, I’ll go see if she’s there.”

****

Twenty minutes later he was unlocking the door of your shared apartment and pushing it open. He stepped inside and the first thing he noticed was that in the middle of an otherwise spotless apartment (courtesy of you, despite the team thinking he was babysitting you, you were the one cooking for him, cleaning up after him, and in general making sure he was taken care of) there was a blanket and a pillow thrown on the couch. They weren’t folded. Not the way they would have been if you had been leaving them for a guest. They were unceremoniously tossed.

They hadn’t been there when you’d come home to change after the game before heading to the bar. At least he knew you were here.

He closed the door behind him and as he flipped the lock he called, “(Y/N)?”

There was no answer. He could see into the living room and kitchen from where he was standing so that really only left one of the two bedrooms as options. As he walked past the guest bedroom he pushed the door open. Nope.

He made it to the end of the hallway and twisted the door knob of the master bedroom without pausing in his stride because, well, he expected the door to open. It didn’t. He ran right into it, took a step back and twisted it again. Locked. “(Y/N)?” he asked through the door, knocking a couple times, “Can you let me in?”

There was no verbal response, but through the door he could hear her turn up the TV to tune him out. He pounded harder on the door, “(Y/N), seriously! Let me in!”

There was no sign whatsoever that she had heard him. He sighed, “Babe, what did I do?” He asked making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard over whatever show she was using to drown out his voice.

On the other side of the door, you turned down the TV and responded, “Go away, Joel. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

He could hear in your voice that you’d been crying. He ran back through the events of the night trying to find anything that he had done that was bad enough to illicit this response from his usually stable, calm, reasonable girlfriend. He couldn’t come up with anything. “(Y/N), I swear to god I will break down this door if you don’t let me in.”

“I don’t want to deal with this right now! Go away!” You yelled, finally snapping and throwing a pillow from his side of the bed at the door.

He flinched at the impact and took a few steps back. He stared at the door for a few more minutes wondering what the fuck he’d done and how he was supposed to fix it. After a long moment of contemplation, he headed to the couch to grab his pillow and blanket.

****

It was a good thing you usually walked staring at the ground when you were in a bad mood. If you hadn’t been, you probably would have tripped over your boyfriend who was laying sprawled on the floor outside your door like a guard dog. You stepped over him and made your way into the kitchen.

You must have been slamming things around louder than you thought you were because the notoriously heavy sleeper appeared behind you within five minutes. You did your best to ignore him, but it was difficult given his following you around with a confused, guilty look on his face. It was like he felt bad for what he’d done but he wasn’t quite sure what that thing was.

Finally, you dropped the bowl of eggs you were whisking on the counter with a clatter and turned to face him with your hands on your hips, “Okay, ask.”

He swallowed, eying you nervously like you were some type of wild animal. “Why are you so mad at me?”

You were angry and not quite thinking clearly. “Don’t you mean to ask why I’m acting like a child?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. Then his face paled. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You said, “Make your own eggs, babysitter.” Then you returned to your whisking.

He stood quietly behind you, knowing he had to do something to fix this, but not quite sure what. As you poured the eggs into the pan he decided that saying just about anything was better than saying nothing, so he decided on, “Babe, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You hummed, acknowledging that you’d heard him but not accepting the apology.

“To be honest, I don’t even remember what all was said. I was mostly tuning them out.” He said, taking a tentative step toward her. “I know I should have stopped them, but it just didn’t seem like an argument worth having.”

“Is this argument worth it?” You asked.

“No.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that you feel that way. Maybe next time you won’t just sit there while all your friends try to convince you to break up with me.”

“I didn’t!” He defended himself, walking up to stand next to you, leaning against the counter and trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Really?” You asked, “Because that’s sure what it seemed like from my end.”

“(Y/N),” He said, voice serious, so uncharacteristic for a man who prided himself on being so lighthearted, “The only part of that conversation I remember was telling them that I plan on marrying you someday.”

You looked up from your eggs, “I didn’t hear you say that.”

“I did, (Y/N), I swear.” He said, “They asked me if I was going to stay with you-,”

“Actually, they said you aren’t really going to stay with her, are you.” You corrected him.

He swallowed, and you stared into each other’s eyes as you waited for him to say something. Eventually he said, “Yeah, they did. They were wrong though, and I told them that. They shut up after I did.”

You dumped the finished eggs on the plate you’d set out then turned to face him, tears in your eyes. “You really said that?”

“I did.” He said, “I swear to god, (Y/N). I wouldn’t lie about that.”

He took a step toward you, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around you. “I know I should have said something sooner and you have no idea how sorry I am, but I don’t think they’ll bring it up again.”

You blinked back tears as you buried your face in his chest. “I’m sorry too. I guess I kind of proved them right last night, didn’t I?”

He hummed low in his chest, “No, baby. Besides, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. We both know I’d be lost without you taking care of my irresponsible ass.”

#Joel Edmundson #joel edmundson imagine #Joel Edmundson Imagines #hockey imagines #nhl imagines

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rainythefox · 4 years ago

Text

Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #Chris Redfield #William Birkin #Annette Birkin #sherry birkin #nicholai ginovaef #resident evil 2 #Jill Valentine #Ada Wong #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #AO3 fanfic

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years ago

Text

I am flesh and I am bone

Pairing: Ahkmenrah x Reader (Female) Word count: 4k+ Warnings: Bit of teen angst, underage drinking, drunk, vomiting, partying. (Nothing major, no one gets hurt.)

Read chapter one here

Chapter Two: Do you walk in the shadow of men

(Before you say anything about the Gif choice, it actually works for this chapter! Like not until way down the bottom, but it’s actually really fitting!!!)

“So, are you coming on Saturday or not?” Amber sighed, sitting atop the desk you had settled yourself at in the school library. Your pen gliding across your page easily, as you worked on your history essay. It wasn’t due for another week and a half, but after you had received an email reply from Uncle Larry last night, you found yourself desperate to get the paper written. The essay was to be written on a famous woman from any time in history of your choosing. At first you worried that it would be considered cheating, but after a while, you realised that it really wasn’t and that it was just doing research in a different way. With all the resources at your disposal, you had decided to write your essay on Sacajawea. After exhausting the knowledge you already had of her from the many conversations over the years, you turned to the horse’s mouth instead, along with Rebecca. Two days ago, you had emailed Larry with a list of detailed questions you hoped Sacajawea could answer for you, with a few others aimed at Rebecca, asking her what she thought so far of what you had written. You had printed the reply the moment you saw it, folding it up and slipping it into your work book, so to read it thoroughly later.

Looking up at Amber, you almost consider changing your plans for the weekend, but you just can’t bring yourself to do so. If she knew the truth as to why you spent so much time at the museum, she would understand your love for the place, but she didn’t, and never would. So, to her, it was just a building, full of inanimate objects. “I can’t Ambs, if it was any other weekend then you know I’d go with you. But I just can’t this time.”

Your friend rolls her eyes, pouting down at you, before closing the textbook you had open on the desk. “You do realise how big a deal this is yeah? Like, were middle schoolers who’ve been invited to high school party! This will likely never happen again…”

You close your eyes tightly, keeping them shut as you count to five slowly in your mind. Of course you knew what you were turning down, an offer like this only came around once, and as Amber had said the day you had been invited, you’re only fourteen once! But as you had told her on the day, the party was being held on a weekend when you would be staying with Uncle Larry. You were torn, a part of you desperately desired to go to the party, to hang out with high schoolers, pretend to be cool for a night, and maybe, just maybe you actually would be cool. That way, high school would be entirely different to how things were for you now. The other part of you though, she wanted to do well in school, to get high grades, to get through high school and then go to college, and to do so you had to study hard. “I know Ambs, but I can’t go. You have a good time though, yeah?”

Amber sighs heavily, nodding her head slowly as she pulls her way off your desk, trudging back through the library and out to the courtyard. She would play at being disappointed with you for a day or two, but it wouldn’t last, it never did. Amber knew how much your weekends at the museum meant to you, and although she never quite understood why you enjoyed your time there so much, she did respect your choices. With a final flourish of your pen, you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, before hoisting it over your shoulder, and heading to the bus.

<<ooo>>

It was the second Saturday of the month, which meant your first night at the museum, Ahk had awoken as the final magic tendrils of his tablet ebbed away for the next twelve hours. He stretched and dressed fully as always, though he was surprised when he did not see you waiting for him as usual. The Anubis statues stood stoic by his tomb, showing no signs of having moved, other than when they had first awoken, clearly there was no threat, otherwise they would be at arms, ready to defend their King. Slowly, he made his way out of the tomb and down the corridor, passing the miniatures who appeared to be plotting something together. Were he not in the process of finding you, then he would pause to assess the plan the group had come up with, but as he was doing something else, he left this as a problem for Larry to solve when the time came.

Ahk wasn’t angry when he found you sitting with Sacajawea, Teddy standing close by, smiling at the stories his lady love told you. You had a notebook open on your lap, your pen scribbling notes down at lightning speed. No, not angry, perhaps disappointed? The two of you had never explicitly stated that on the days you came to the museum, that you would be there when he woke up, in fact, from what Ahk could recall, it was never something you had discussed at all. It just happened to be the routine you had both fallen into. He stood by the exhibit entrance, watching as you absorbed the words your interviewee spoke, like a sponge. No detail was too little, you always wanted to know everything. A presence by his side caused Ahk to turn, coming face to face with Nicky, the man who stood where a young boy once had. Time truly was a mystery to him, and an ache appeared in his chest as a thought struck him. Nicky would likely be headed off for larger scale adventures soon, leaving the city to find himself as young men often did. Larry, well even he was beginning to tire of working nights, the dark circles beneath his eyes often more prominent than they used to be. Rebecca spent less time at the Museum during the nights now, she had other work to focus on, work which she found difficult to complete during the hustle and bustle of the museum. Then there was you, no longer the young one he had rescued years prior, you were now fourteen, Ahk had taken care to keep tracks of the dates more carefully after your tenth birthday, ensuring that he was the first in the museum to wish you a happy birthday when you turned eleven the following year. From what he recalled of Nicky at that age, then you would likely be wanting to spend more time with your friends, living your young adult years fully, before moving on to new schools, to become the woman you were destined to be. It would then be back to square one, not only for him, but for the other museum exhibits too. There would be a new night guard, who would bring along new family and friends, only for the cycle to come full circle again, and again. That right there, that was the true power of his Tablet, it was not a gift as the other exhibits believed, no it truly was a curse. Forcing him to watch those he grew to care about, leave.

Nicky clears his throat, and Ahk blinks rapidly, clearing his head of the gloomy thoughts which were plaguing his mind. “I’d be careful around Y/N tonight if I were you. She’s been in a right mood since she arrived this morning.

Ahk cast his gaze to you once more, noticing the lack of animation in your features when you spoke, something which he had not picked up on when first finding you here. “Do you know what has happened?”

Nicky shrugged his broad shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I heard her talking to Rebecca over lunch. Sounds like girl drama. Something about a high school party that she was invited to, but she decided not to go so she could spend the weekend here, doing assignments, and spending time with everyone.”

A dark cloud falls over Ahkmenrah’s crystalline eyes, his features falling into thinly veiled anger. “She is giving up her youth to be here with us?” The words came out in a harsh whisper, and it took Nicky by surprise, in all the years the two had known each other, not once had he heard such a voice come from the usually soft-spoken King. “You live but once, why waste her time with those who will live to see eternity?”

Nicky sighs, yet another shrug forming on his shoulders. “She’s doing it for her future, she wants to go places, put all that history knowledge she has to good use. I think there’s been mention of becoming a Docent, like Rebecca. She’s trying to focus on her studies. I think she’s worried that if she lets herself take a break for longer than five minutes, then all the information stored in her brain, it’ll all just vanish.” Nicky mimes an explosion around his head with his hands, chuckling quietly to himself.

“That is preposterous, Y/N is one the most, if not the most intelligent people I have met. She is still so young, she must find a way to enjoy her life that does not revolve around the dead.” Ahk breathes out, watching you intently once more. “This party she declined to attend, was it for a special occasion?”

“I doubt it. It was a high school party, I’d say she’s just bummed out that she won’t get to try her first cigarette or shot of vodka until she’s older.”

“Vodka, that is the Russian alcohol, correct? Nicky nods, smiling lopsidedly as he rests his back against the wall behind them. He could be wrong, but he knew that’s what his first high school party had been like, and he doubted much had changed in the few years since then. “Would you be able to procure a bottle of this beverage?” Ahk asks quietly.

“Hm? Oh sure, Larry and Rebecca have a bottle in their drink’s cabinets. It’s been in there for years, they won’t notice if it’s missing.”

“In that case, would you care to join me in the staff room tomorrow at dusk, along with Y/N?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll make sure we’re both there when you wake up.” Nicky grins, as the two men continue watching you interact with Sacajawea.

<<ooo>>

Nicky gripped your wrist tightly as he dragged you through the museum, Ahk’s tablet had not yet awoke the exhibits, so it was just the two of you and Larry currently walking the halls. “Will you hurry up please?” He groans, as he pulls you along further behind him.

“No I won’t. Not until you tell me what’s going on?” You grumble, dropping as much weight into your feet, so Nicky struggled further with pulling you along.

“I already did! We’re going to the staff room!”

“You answered part of my question, I wanted to know where we are going, and why.”

“There’s just something we have to do in there alright. Now will you please walk just a little bit faster?”

There was no use in pressing Nicky into answering you further, it was like talking to a brick wall at times. Reluctantly, you picked up your pace, matching Nicky’s long strides down the corridor. “Fine, but this had better not take too long. I’ve still got heaps left to do on my report, and I promised I’d meet up with Sacagawea again tonight.”

You both pause just outside of the staff room, the door closed and only accessible by those who knew the pin code. As Nicky punched in the four-digit code, you leant against the wall, arms folded across your chest. “You don’t have heaps to do for the report. I heard you talking to Rebecca about it this morning. You’re practically finished with it.”

You frown across at Nicky, poking your tongue out at him in retaliation. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

The door swings open, and Nicky enters first, with you following close behind. “Stop complaining for five minutes and sit down. Ahk’s coming soon too, and then we both have a surprise for you.”

You frown slightly at Ahk’s name, your heart beating more erratically. When had you started feeling like this at just the mere mention of his name? You had often thought of the Pharaoh as attractive, however he was always viewed in the same light as a celebrity, pretty to look at from afar, but never yours to have. “Nicky, I’ve never liked your surprises. The last one you gave me, was an impromptu water pistol fight, where I was unarmed.”

Nicky laughs at this, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “No, it’s nothing like that, I promise! This is to help you get over your bad mood.”

“What bad mood? I’m not in a bad mood!”

The door swings open, and gentle footsteps pad into the staff room. “You definitely seemed to be yesterday. I didn’t see you at all.” Ahkmenrah observed, and you felt the life drain from your body.

Had you intentionally avoided Ahk yesterday? Yes. And were you avoiding him for stupid reasons? Also, yes. Amber had gone into details with you over what she was expecting the party to be like this weekend, she was gushing over how excited she was to finally snog one of the cute football players from the high school. While she talked, you couldn’t help your mind but wander, of course you agreed, some of the football team were very attractive, and if you happened to land on one of them while playing spin the bottle, then you wouldn’t complain. However, you couldn’t help but imagine a certain ancient Egyptian pharaoh, sitting cross legged on the floor, in a circle with your friends, and when it came time for you to spin the bottle, it would land on him. You could almost imagine how it would feel to kiss Ahkmenrah, his calloused hands cupping your face, warm fingers gentle against your cheeks….

“Hello, Earth to Y/N? You still with us?” Nicky grins, snapping his fingers in front of your clouded gaze.

“Fuck, sorry just kinda tired. Sorry Ahk, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just needed to get my project finished.” You shrug, trying desperately to ignore the blush which was slowly creeping up your neck.

“There is no need to apologise, your studies are important to you, I understand this.” Ahk smiles, moving through the staff room, to settle himself on one of the seats, while Nicky does the same to a separate chair.

You gaze between the two men, both grinning at each other. “So, what’s the plan here then? Because if it’s just to sit around all night, then I’m gonna head….”

Nicky leaps from his chair, racing to the kitchenette, opening one of the lower cabinets that seemed to only house spare napkins and cups for the water cooler. As he turns to face you both again, he presents a rather large unopened bottle of vodka, and multicoloured plastic shot glasses. “It’s time to party my dudes!”

Ahk is grinning, his eyes sparkling as he turns to look at you, drinking in your surprised yet grinning face. “What? I don’t…. Why are we having a party?” You stammer out, unable to form a full sentence.

“It was brought to my attention, that you are missing out on a rather crucial moment of your young life. Nicky mentioned that you are missing a party so to spend your time with us. Is that correct?”

Ahk’s eyes are locked with yours, and you can feel yourself grow dizzy. ‘Just answer him dammit! Stop staring, stop imagining him kissing you. Not only is he technically five years older than you, he is also thousands of years older than you! Snap out of it!’ Your internal monologue is cut off by your own voice. “Just a stupid high school party. It really isn’t that important. I’m sure there’ll be other parties.” You shrug.

“That is beside the point! As Nicky explained to me, tonight should’ve been about you having new experiences, by meeting new people, and trying new things.”

“Trying alcohol for example!” Nicky chimes in, before plonking himself back down on his seat, unscrewing the cap on the vodka bottle.

“Christ! Ahk, Nicky! I’m fourteen, I’m not allowed to drink! What if Larry walks in on us and see’s this? I‘ll never be allowed to come back here!” Pointing an accusatory finger at Nicky, “Larry will literally murder you!” Turning a hard glare to the shocked Ahk, “And you! Well, I’m not sure what Larry’ll do to you, but I’m sure he’ll find a way to punish you too!” At this point in your protesting, you had stood up, hands fisted at your sides, and a glare piercing your eyes.

“Calm down Y/N. I promise you, Larry will never find out! We’ll have a couple of shots, put the bottle back, then continue in with our night as usual.” Nicky offers, holding his hands out, palms facing your way in a show of surrender.

“I did not mean to offend you young one, I thought perhaps this was something you had wanted. If it is not, please forgive me. It was my idea, do not take your anger out on Nicky.” Ahk sighs, looking up at you through his thick lashes.

You want to be annoyed at both men, want to tell them off for trying to pull something this stupid off. But with Ahk looking at you the way he was, you felt all the fight leave your body. “It’s fine. It’s nice that you thought about me and planned this.”

Ahk smiles, leaning forward and collecting the plastic wrapped shot glasses. He pierces the plastic with his nail, and tears the remainder of the wrapping away, slipping three glasses free. “Would you join me, and enjoy a drink?”

Nicky eagerly pours himself and Ahk a shot, before watching you expectantly. “Alright. But just one.”

<<ooo>>

Hours passed, and you were only vaguely aware of how dramatically the once full bottle of vodka had dropped in contents. Your warning of one shot had quickly vanished after you realised the alcohol was caramel flavoured, shot after shot went down far too easily, not only for yourself, but for Ahk and Nicky too! Nicky himself seemed to be faring reasonably well, he was after all quite a bit older than you, and was legally old enough to drink, so he clearly had a higher tolerance than you. Ahk on the other hand, he was nearly as bad as you were.

Ahk had made a declaration at the beginning of the evening, explaining how he would remain the most sober out of all of you. He was a king once, he knew how to tolerate his alcohol, when he was alive, he drank delicious wines all the time. Clearly, alcohol had changed since Ancient Egyptian times, and had become more potent. Or at least, that was what you assumed had happened. How else were you supposed to explain the once Pharaoh dancing to the spice girls in his tomb, while you and Nicky sat back and watched in glee. “Dance with me young one!” Ahk grinned, spinning over to you, where you were curled up on the ground watching him intently. He reached a hand out to you, which you obligingly took.

Your stomach was doing flips, but it was hard to tell if that was from the vodka, or from holding Ahk’s hand. You hadn’t touched him since the very first day you met. Touching always felt like something you weren’t allowed to do, and a part of you worried that if you did reach out to him, that he would crumble away, leaving you with the memory of a vivid dream where the museum had come alive…. “I’m no good at dancing.” You slur, as he pulls you further into his tomb, where he begins dancing with his entire body. Whereas you opt for a timid foot shuffle, and occasional shoulder roll. The room was spinning, you had stood up far too quickly, and it was taking your eyes time to catch up with your brain.

“I am sure that is a lie, here, let me show you.” Ahk offers, once again taking your hand, which he then uses to spin you into his chest, locking one hand on your waist to keep you still after the turn. “Are you okay?” Ahk asks, eyes locking on yours as you sway against him. Your eyes are unfocused, and your forehead is sweating.

You tilt away from him, lifting your chin enough to look up at the Pharaoh equally drunk as you. “I don’t feel well –“ Is all you get, before you turn your face away from him, double over and proceed to empty the contents of your stomach onto the floor beside your feet.

Ahk is still holding you firmly around the waist, though his body has visibly become tense. It takes Nicky a few moments to realise what has happened, though in the time it takes him to process the events, Ahk has swooped into action. He bends his knees, and dips down to be closer to your height. “Close your eyes for a moment.” His voice is gentle, yet authoritative and you find yourself compelled to do as he says. In one swift motion, he has one arm under the bend of your knees, and the other supporting your back. He doesn’t have to ask, but you know it’ll make things easier, so you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face against his broad shoulder.

The young king marches out of his tomb, cradling you safely against his chest as he searches for the nearest bathroom. Bathroom’s were not something Ahk had a need for now, so he had never paid attention to where they were located in the museum, had it not been for the small signs identifying them, hanging from the ceiling, he may never have known where to turn. Ahk fumbles for a few moments as he attempts to hold you, whilst opening the door, it takes hi four attempts but finally, the door swings open, making way to a tiled floor of the washroom. “Here, I’m going to put you on the ground now, are you ready?”

Ahk’s voice is a gentle whisper against the shell of your ear, and had it not been for the churning sensation in your stomach, then you likely would’ve shivered from his close proximity. Just as he had said, Ahk lowers you to the ground, and you land on shaky legs. The small room was spinning around you, and the bright fluorescent light on the ceiling was not helping you to feel any better. “Oh fuck…” You groan, before slamming your body into the toilet stall door, dropping to your knees and hunching over the toilet bowl.

“Shhh, you will be fine young one. All will be fine soon.” Ahk offers, rubbing his hand over your back as he crouches down beside you. His fingers catch in the ends of your hair occasionally, though he gently glides through the tangles without causing you any pain.

It felt like hours before your stomach had finally settled down, and your vision no longer swam in circles. Carefully, you pull away from the toilet, falling to your ass and leaning against the stall wall. Ahk is still crouched in his earlier position, though his eyes follow your movements, watching you like a hawke. “I’m sorry Ahk. This wasn’t how you’d planned for this to go I’m sure.” You mumble, tilting your head back so you could look at him fully.

A small smile tugs at his lips, before he too sits on the ground leaning against the wall also. “You have no reason to be sorry young one. If anyone should be apologising, it is me. I had hoped this evening would cheer you up, and help you to enjoy your young life. However, I fear with the way this has ended, that perhaps all I have done is make you feel worse.”

You allow Ahk’s words to sink in, your brain taking far longer than usual to process what he had said. Slowly however, a smile stretches across your lips, and a small bubble of laughter blooms in your chest. “Hey, vomit or no. I had a great night.” You grin, before stretching your legs out in front of you. “And I can’t think of anyone else I would rather get drunk with Ahk.” You nudge your foot against his knee for emphasis on his name, grinning softly at the young man.

<<ooo>>

Something was changing, that he knew for sure. But what and how, he couldn’t quite tell. For decades now, Ahkmenrah had slept during the day, and awoken at dusk, his sleep however was not what he knew sleep to be when he was alive. His eyes would fall closed, and his breathing would even out, until one final gasp of air left his lungs, and his was plunged into what felt like an eternal black abyss. He was not afraid, despite having no conscious thoughts or even memories in the darkness, he somehow knew not to be afraid.

For the past seven years however, something was different. As dawn rose, the sun creeping its way over the horizon, he would be plunged into the darkness as always, though it did not last. It was almost as if a door in his mind would open, and suddenly, there they were… Dreams. Not memories of his life, but honest to goodness, fantastical dreams.

He had no idea why this was happening, especially now of all times. Nothing had changed, he had been in the same museum for years, and at no stage had he regained his dreams before now. So why now? What could have possibly happened within the past seven years for his dreams to return to him?

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

52 Project #12: Mephistopheles

“Mephistopheles is not your name...”

- The Police, Wrapped Around Your Finger

The car jerked to a halt, jolting Alan awake. He opened his eyes to darkness, disoriented. The car reversed, went back, went forward again, and he realized where he was. "We're there?"

Diana spun the wheel, put the car into reverse again. "Quiet," she said sharply. There was a frightened tension in her voice.

Alan looked out the window. Though the only light came from a streetlamp across the road, he could see enough to determine that Diana was trying to park, and having a miserable time of it. 500 years old, scholar, mage, and she still doesn't know how to park a car, he thought blearily, and started at a bulk looming in the rear view window. "Watch out for that truck!" he shouted.

"I told you to be quiet!" she snapped. "That's as good as it gets. Hurry up out!"

He fumbled his seat belt open, and pulled the door handle. "You want me to get the bags?"

"Alan, for the love of God, just get into the building!"

He was still disoriented, half-asleep, and there was barely enough light to see by. Which building? Some of Diana's panic communicated itself to him, but it only paralyzed him, and he stood on the sidewalk for several seconds trying to figure out which Diana meant. He turned to ask her, and noticed the car sticking out from the curb at a crazy angle. "What if someone hits the car?" he asked.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the steps of a massive shadow. "Do you want to get us both killed?" she hissed, pulling open the door and yanking him into the blackness beyond. "Wake up, Alan!"

Killed? The idea woke him up fast. Diana switched the lights on, and he closed his eyes against the sudden brightness. "Sorry I'm being so slow," he said, opening them again. They were standing in the center of a foyer, on a shabby pink carpet. Against the wall stood two equally shabby pink chairs. They looked as if they might have been expensive once, maybe forty years ago. To the left he saw a staircase with an ornate but ancient wooden banister; to the right, and at the top of the staircase, two dark, heavy wooden doors with battered gothic carvings on them stood. "Are we safe now?"

"Not yet," Diana said. "Alan, they were almost on us." She turned away from him, trembling slightly. In a detached sort of way, he was surprised at her reaction-- he hadn't thought anything could scare Diana.

"And now?" he asked.

"This building is-- protected, to some extent. They won't pinpoint us as quickly here. But we won't be truly safe until-- Alan!!"

Her cry came before he felt it himself. Then a sickening wave of paralyzing numbness drove vision and speech from him. A haze of dizziness clouded all of his senses, even the position of his body. From somewhere very far away, he heard Diana shout, "Donald, it's Diana Faust! Release him!"

And then it was over, and the world was normal again. He staggered, more in shock than pain, and Diana caught him. "A spell?" he asked as he straightened up, and she nodded.

On the staircase stood a newcomer, seemingly little more than a boy, though Alan knew better than to go by appearances. The newcomer was short, sallow, and thin, with dark uncombed hair all over his head and mirrored shades hiding his eyes. Alan guessed that this was Donald Ward, the arcana mage they'd come to see. Somehow, he'd expected an ancient sage, or at the very least someone professorial. This man looked somewhere between 16 and 19 years of age.

But then, Diana herself looked like a 22-year-old model, when she was actually older than Shakespeare.

"Diana," Ward said wearily. "It's past two o'clock. What are you doing here?" His voice was unpleasant, high-pitched and nasal with traces of a Brooklyn accent, and very weak. As he spoke, Alan had to fight the urge to cough in sympathy.

"Emergency." Diana sounded brusque. "I'll explain later. Right now, though, I need you to put up a protection sphere."

"In the middle of the night?" Ward asked disbelievingly.

"I've been driving since 7 this morning-- don't tell me how tired you are," Diana said sharply. From her attitude, Alan could see that she was senior to Donald, elder, more powerful, whatever term you wanted to apply to a higher-status mage. "I've come to offer you what you need. Put up a protection sphere first."

"I haven't got the energy," Ward said faintly. Alan could believe it.

Diana opened her pocketbook and drew out a bag full of faintly glowing crushed leaves. She held it toward the staircase. "Free of charge," she said.

For a second, Ward stood frozen. Then, slowly, he began to move downstairs, never taking his eyes from the bag. "How much is in there?" he asked, hanging onto the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

Diana walked forward and handed the bag to him. "Eight drachms."

Ward suddenly snatched the package like a hungry animal and ripped it open. By now Alan had recognized it-- flos corde, heartflower, the most powerful substance in the arcana universe, an extract of pure energy. "Aren't you supposed to brew that?" he asked tentatively as Ward crammed the leaves into his mouth.

With the sunglasses, it was hard to discern Ward's expression, but Alan thought the man was giving him a disgusted look. Diana said, "We're supposed to brew it. Donald has different needs." She took his hand and pulled him past Donald Ward, onto the staircase.

"What about the protection sphere?" Alan asked.

"He's done it already," Diana said. "I told you. The words of a spell are only a way to focus the mind. Once the mind knows how to make a certain spell, words become superfluous. Ward's an adept-- did you expect him to stand in the lobby and chant 'Om'?"

She opened the door at the top of the stairs-- and they entered a different world.

Donald Ward's apartment was plants, all plants. They covered the walls, creeping vines and multicolored ivies and thick ropes of blue kudzu. They hung from the ceiling in pots and baskets. They grew thickly in the moist soil that covered the floor. A few graceful fountains burbled among bushes and dwarf trees. Two globes of light hung in midair, about twelve feet from the floor, with no apparent support. The light they gave off was brilliant, like a summer day, and Alan had to shield his eyes-- but even when they passed directly under them, he could feel no heat coming from them.

"My God," Alan said.

"The miracles of an arcana education," Diana said dryly.

"Where does he live in all this?"

"He doesn't. He lives over here."

She led him through the maze of vines, around occasional support pillars and ceramic statues, to an area beyond some bushes, where a raised floor came out of the dirt. On the floor stood a stove, a refrigerator, a table with two chairs, and a couch. The couch and one of the chairs had books piled on them. Here, the walls were nearly devoid of plants, covered instead with shelves and cabinets and odd-looking appliances, but the ceiling was still covered with evil viney growth. It stayed off the walls, mostly, except at the very top, but it dipped down in many places to dangle in loops that could catch a person’s head. A tiny door was nearly hidden between the stove and the refrigerator. The whole room was tremendously cramped and claustrophobic. "I guess he doesn't do much entertaining," Alan said.

"Donald is rather uniquely alone." Diana sat in the empty chair. Alan took the books off the other one and followed suit.

"I thought you said most arcana live alone," Alan said. "The ones that don't form covens."

"Stop saying covens. I use the word once, to make a point, and you adopt it. The word is schools."

"All right, schools," Alan said. "But if most arcana live alone, why is Ward unique?"

Diana played with a button on her jacket, snapping and unsnapping it. "He's the only arcana who lives alone and doesn't want to."

Ward came in then, sliding past the shrubbery with the ease of long practice. "All right, Diana," he said. His voice was very fast now, almost tripping on itself. "What's the emergency?" He perched on the couch and glanced sideways at Alan. "You're not usually one for taking in strays."

Diana pushed fine blond hair out of her eyes, looking up from her button. In the shadiness of the nook, Alan noticed for the first time an unpleasant pink tinge to her eyes, almost a glow. "Let me first tell you what's in it for you," she said. "Agree to help me, whatever I say or do, and I'll cure you."

Ward stood. "You said two decades ago you couldn't cure me."

Cure him of what? Alan wondered. Ward didn't look healthy, it was true, but what sort of disease could bring an arcana adept down? Did his devouring the heartflower have something to do with it?

"One can learn a lot in two decades. Do you agree?"

"What can I lose?"

"They might sanction you."

"So what? What can they take, my life?" He laughed sharply, without humor, and sat on the table. "What did you get involved in this time, Diana? You've never been threatened with sanction in my lifetime."

Diana put her hands flat on the table and looked directly at Ward. "Several months ago, this young man, Alan Michaels, tracked me down. He'd discovered that I was an arcana, and he wanted to be one too."

"So you taught him. Where's the problem? Did he break taboo?"

"I'm not a certified teacher."

"What?" Ward slid off the table and stood. "How can you not be certified? You have to be more than 50 decades old, and you must know more than any other arcana I've heard of. More even than Marcus. How could you possibly not be certified?"

Diana half-smiled and shrugged. "Too much trouble."

"WHAT??"

"You heard me quite well, Donald."

"I heard you, I just don't believe it. Why not?"

"My name is Diana Faust." She stood up, drawing arrogance around her like a cloak. "I didn't just pick the name at random, Donald. Faust sold his soul to the devil for knowledge. I've spent the last forty years studying at various colleges, changing identities, learning all I could. I never wanted to play Mephistopheles. I don't interact well with people, and my habits force me to take new bodies almost as often as you do. I don't need students for security or energy or companionship or any of the other reasons ring-bearers teach, and I didn't want to take the time from my own studies."

"So why did you go ahead and teach someone anyway?"

"Curiosity, mostly. I wanted to see how it'd come out-- an uncontrolled arcana. And I'd found someone who was as desperate to play Faust as I was."

"What are you talking about?" Donald said, echoing Alan's thought. "We don't sell our souls to become arcana."

"Don't we?" Diana said softly. Her face became serious. "In any case. What have you decided, Donald? Will you do it?"

Ward sat down on the table again. "Diana, I really would sell my soul to the devil if I thought it would cure me," he said. "I've been to the Frozen World, I've been everywhere, and nobody can help me. So you can consider yourself protected. You two can live in the downstairs apartment-- it's smaller than this one, but it's got two beds--"

"--And no plants. I know," Diana said. Suddenly she seemed very weary. "You can expect results within the week. Let's go, Alan."

They got the bags out of the car in silence, and Alan parked it up the street, properly this time. Diana had told him that arcana could go for up to 72 hours without getting tired, but after only a day, he could see that she was dead on her feet, her movements dragging and lethargic. Alan didn't feel much better-- sleeping in the car was not the best way to insure a restful night. And they hadn't ever had a chance to stop-- Diana kept saying that if they stopped, the other arcana would find them. After a while, as the need to stretch his legs increased, and as more time passed without any visible signs of the danger they were in, Alan had stopped believing her.

He had been quickly reconvinced by the attack on the thruway, the one that had left two carfuls of smoking bodies behind them.

Obviously, they weren't going to be able to unpack everything tonight, but some things needed to be done. As Alan began moving toilet supplies into the tiny bathroom, he asked, "How is Ward sick?"

"I don't know if I can explain," Diana said dully, folding clothes like someone half-asleep. For a moment, Alan thought he should leave her alone-- she sounded thoroughly drained. But curiosity won out over politeness.

"You can explain anything," he said, with forced cheer. "Go ahead."

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "I told you that most arcana need to take a new body every twenty to forty years, most always someone who voluntarily exchanges their life for some feat of magic. Our magic is powered by the energy of life, and one body only contains a finite amount. So we make our deals with our clients prime, and grant them whatever they want in return for their lives and bodies. Right?"

She was getting repetitive, perhaps due to her exhaustion. "I know all that," he said, slightly irritably. He was tired, too.

"Well, Donald Ward requires a new client prime every three to five years," Diana said. "His life energy bleeds away too fast for any of his bodies to replenish it. I have an idea about the cause, but it's too technical for you and I'm too tired to paraphrase it into layman's language." She finished putting the clothes away and sat down on the bed. "You may have noticed that when we get tired, or our bodies start to wear out, our eyes turn pink."

He paused, coat hanger in hand, and looked at her. The room was lit only by windows, and Diana's back was to them. Alan perceived a definite pinkish glow, defining the hollows in her face that were her eyes. "I see."

"His are a blinding bright pink, all the time. That's why he wears those glasses." Diana yawned and pulled off her shoes. "We've done enough work. You get dressed in the bathroom, I'll stay out here."

"All right," Alan said. He got a sweatsuit out of his suitcase to sleep in, and carried it into the bathroom. Sometimes Diana's modesty seemed a little bit funny to him. Three years ago, he'd seen her nude often enough-- but she'd had a different body back then, and she had been careful to keep their relationship professional since she'd become his teacher.

That was one restriction that bothered Alan. Diana's slender model's body was not as much to his tastes as the tiny form she'd worn when they were college students together, but she was still the only woman in his life, had been practically the only person he'd associated with at all for two years, and a man could build up a lot of frustrated desire in that time. He never asked-- he knew quite well that she knew his feelings, and that she intended to maintain a teacher-student relationship, free of sexual entanglements, whatever he might want. The thought floated through his head that he could open the door to the bathroom a crack-- from this angle, he should be able to see her without her noticing. It wasn’t a serious thought, though. In the first place, it’d be disrespectful, and if she caught him at it, he would be in serious trouble.

Alan leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. He looked like death warmed over, with stubble on his cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and overlong reddish brown hair flopping every which way over his head and face. But it was his face. That was the hardest thing to get used to-- that when he became an arcana, this body would die, and he would have to take another. Morbidly, he tried to imagine it-- would it be fat or thin? handsome or ugly? blond or brunet? Maybe it would even be a woman's body-- Diana had been a man more than once, according to her, and she claimed that many arcana no longer cared about the sex of the bodies they acquired. The idea of becoming a woman bothered Alan, though, on the deep levels where the unease could not be purged by rational thought. He didn't think taking a woman as his first client prime would be a good way to start his career-- he should get used to the weirdness of body-switching itself before dealing with the further weirdness of sex-changing.

A cold feeling suddenly burned through Alan. The body he was so casually imagining already belonged to a man somewhere. A man who would have to die for his sake.

He quickly left the bathroom, dragging his dirty clothes with one hand, not caring if Diana was dressed yet or not. He had to talk to her, ask her about the clients prime. Did they really know what they were getting into? Did they really, voluntarily agree to die? What magical favors would be worth dying for?

But Diana was already asleep, the covers pulled tightly around her body and her head buried in the pillow. Alan turned away and sat down on the other bed, making it sag with his weight. Trust Diana to take the best bed.

Well, that was her prerogative, he supposed. She was the teacher, he the student, and he trusted her completely. She might have lied to him in the past, but never since becoming his teacher. Diana claimed that most human emotion was alien to her, that she had never truly understood or experienced human emotion even in the days when she, too, was bound by human limitations. She further claimed that her sole motive in teaching Alan was curiosity. But Alan was fairly sure that was bullshit. Whether she wanted to admit it, even to herself, or not, Alan knew she really cared for him, somewhere inside. She would never have let him become an arcana if she'd thought it would harm him.

Although he would have found another way even if she'd refused him. Alan was as obsessively curious and as indifferent to the outside world as Diana herself. They were very much alike. For example, he thought of Ward's comment-- "We don't sell our souls to become arcana--" and of Diana's ambiguous reply, and knew she felt the same way he did. Even if the price of knowledge had been his soul, he'd have paid it. He was as much Faust as Diana was. She had to care about him, for he cared about her, and fundamentally, he was sure, they were the same.

Alan had first met her as a college student. His parents had recently died, leaving him a large trust fund to continue his education, as well as a monstrous emptiness in his life nothing had been able to fill. He had decided, not entirely consciously, to cut himself off from human contact, to live solely for intellectual pursuits. As a result, he'd become obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge. He'd changed his major for the third time, giving him another two years before he had to graduate, another two years to fill his life with classes and seminars and cultural events instead of facing the fact of his awful loneliness. The only contact with people he'd had was over the Internet, with people he never saw. He hadn't even looked at women – not as women, anyway. People who were women were all around him, but looking at them as potential sexual partners had been too much work.

But he'd found it increasingly harder to ignore Diana. Then, she'd been a tiny, wild thing with tangled-briar black hair and gypsy green eyes. He hadn't known then what she was; all she'd been then was a fellow student, classmate in a philosophy seminar. At first, he'd hardly noticed her body (well, be honest; he'd tried not to notice her body)-- it had been her mind, powerful and original and more knowledgeable than anyone else's, that had attracted him.

They'd become lovers, and he found himself drawn by her more and more, as if she were his only connection to the humanity he'd all but rejected. He clung to her desperately, but never admitted to himself or her how much he needed her. He'd accepted her arrogance and unconscious assumption of superiority because to him, anyone with a mind like that was his superior. Brilliance was the only thing he respected, and he hungrily desired all she could teach him, wanting her knowledge even more than her body.

Then they'd gone their separate ways over the summer, with what Alan had thought was the tacit understanding that they would get back together the next year. Diana had been there three years, and had at least another before she could graduate. There had been every reason to assume she'd return to the same school the next year.

She hadn't.

Searching for her, for the reasons why she'd left, Alan had discovered that she was completely gone, erased from the computer banks as if she'd never attended that school. He'd called on all his computer skills, plundered the databases of American colleges-- and had found her, in places she could not be. In the past decade, she had attended three schools as an incoming freshman. Her age had been listed as eighteen in each case. Prior to that, he found evidence of her as a graduate student, at multiple schools, going back another twenty years or so before the records went offline and were unavailable to him. Finally, working day and night, he'd found a student named Diana Faust, a freshman at a new university. He'd gone to meet her-- and found a tall, slender blonde with a model's body and Diana's mind.

It was then that he'd learned of Diana's immortality, of her magic powers. He'd begged, cajoled, groveled, and finally persuaded her to teach him, with no understanding of the dangers he faced. Of course, Diana had warned him that if they were discovered she would be sanctioned, that dozens of powerful magicians would try to kill them for breaking the arcana's most sacred law, but he couldn't quite believe that. What could be so horrible about teaching without certification?

Now Alan believed it, even if he still didn't understand why. To the arcana, the concept of "teacher" meant something far different, far older than the usual concept held by ordinary people. "Teacher", to arcana, held overtones of "master" and "elder" and "parent" and "superior". The teachers of the arcana formed a sacred elite, and like most sacred elites, they tried to destroy anyone who infringed on their prerogatives.

This whole mess had made him respect Diana even more. She could have cut and run, abandoning him to the others' fury-- she'd told him that his death would absolve her. She could even have killed him herself. But she hadn't, and Alan loved and admired her for it. Diana might claim to be totally heartless, but Alan knew better. She cared for him-- she had to, or she never would have protected him. And she was brilliant. She would find a way to protect them both, forever.

He only wished he knew enough magic to help her.

Alan climbed into bed, exhausted. It was six in the morning-- aside from a fitful three hours or so snatched in the car, he had been up for longer than 24 hours. He turned away from the window, toward Diana, and arranged his covers to block out as much light as possible without covering his nose and mouth.

***

Alan woke with a start. The room was totally dark.

He fumbled for a light, clumsy with irrational panic at having slept through something important. As he turned on the light, the groggy terror of waking began to pass. How could he possibly have slept through something important? There wasn't anything that important anymore, not anything that ran on a schedule, at least. It wasn't like he still went to class or anything.

Diana wasn't in the other bed.

By itself, that was nothing. Alan was independent enough to take care of himself, he didn't need Diana holding his hand all the time. But now, coming on top of the fear, her absence had a distinctly sinister flavor. The panic was too great to equal a simple missed class. He felt still as if he had slept through something vital to his survival.

"Trust your hunches," Diana had said once. "As you grow in power, you will begin to perceive things, understand parts of existence that few mortals comprehend. Mortals have hunches based on half-remembered facts in the subconscious. You'll start to have hunches based on psychic power. You won't understand them, they'll seem irrational, but trust them. They're your arcana senses, beginning to bud."

Analyze. The windows showed only darkness, and it felt very late. But it had been six in the morning when he went to bed. Alan went to his bags and pulled out a clock. For several minutes, he couldn't comprehend what it was telling him. Then it came clear, and he stared at it in disbelief.

It said 4:00 AM.

He padded out into the threatening shadows of the kitchenette. On the range was a tiny lit clock. It confirmed what the digital had told him. He really had slept nearly twenty-two hours.

The bedroom felt more secure, so Alan walked back to it, trying to master his irrational desire to run. He had been charmed to sleep, that was certain. He hadn't been that tired. And, since Diana had no motive for putting him to sleep, that left two choices. Either Ward had done it-- or some other arcana had.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "Diana..."

He couldn't yield to panic. The other arcana were here, he was sure. Either Ward had betrayed them, or his protection sphere hadn't been enough. That didn't really matter now. Diana was either dead, or a hostage, or trying to negotiate with her fellows. In any case, he should probably run. People who could kill or capture Diana would eat him for breakfast, and if she were negotiating, he should get out of the enemy's reach so that he couldn't be used against her.

He had already gotten dressed and pocketed the car keys before he realized that he wasn't going anywhere. It might be stupid, it was probably insane, but he had to find Diana, had to find out what had happened to her. After all, how could he seriously attempt to run from arcana? He didn't know how to put up a protection sphere, didn't know how to defend himself from attack. He'd be candy if they wanted him dead.

So he would get some answers before he died. And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that the few spells he knew could swing the balance in Diana's favor, especially if Ward were still on their side. Alan chanted the words of a spell of invisibility, knowing it wouldn't fool any arcana who was looking for him. But if they weren't looking, the spell might save his life. He felt the spell take effect, warming him, and the shadows of the tiny living room, the glaring empty light of the kitchenette, no longer seemed as threatening.

Alan stepped out of the apartment. The foyer was dark and silent, and it took all his courage to walk through it to the stairs. But Diana was in Ward's apartment, he knew without knowing how. If he was going to learn anything, he had to go up there.

The doorknob of Ward's apartment was terrifyingly cold, and Alan began to tremble. He thought again of fleeing, bolting down the stairs and out to the car. But he stayed where he was, and finally, silently, turned the knob.

Voices came to him, then. He stood in the doorway, moved a bit deeper into the room, but couldn't hear clearly enough-- all the plant life was muffling the sound. Very slowly, Alan moved forward, making no motion without checking first to see that it would make no noise. There was Diana's voice, strangely low and calm-- of course, if anyone could remain calm in these circumstances it would be Diana. He made out Donald Ward's voice, but couldn't hear any others. They're the only ones, he thought, surprised-- he hadn't thought Ward was powerful enough to defeat Diana.

He moved forward again, until he could see their faces. They weren't speaking any language he could understand-- silently, he cursed himself for not engaging the translation spell. He couldn't do it here, of course-- activating a spell would be like sending up a flare to them. So he remained silent, and waited, watching. It didn't look like Ward was threatening Diana. As usual, Diana seemed to be explaining something. And gradually, Alan realized he had been wrong.

Diana wasn't in danger at all. They were talking shop!

Then why had he been spelled to sleep?

For a moment, doubt froze him. Maybe nobody put him to sleep. He had fallen asleep naturally, after all, and he'd been tired, and under great strain-- but 22 hours of natural sleep pushed the boundaries of credibility until they snapped. No, someone had put him to sleep, and the reasons were coming clearer.

"You could have told me, Diana," he whispered soundlessly, his lips forming patterns without voice. "You didn't have to put me out." She might occasionally want to be alone with someone of her own kind, after all. In comparison to her, Alan was a little child, and Donald was an adult. Even if she'd had a vocation for teaching-- and she didn't-- it made sense that she'd want to spend some time with an adult of her own kind. But she didn't need to put him to sleep, as if he were a baby to be gotten out of the way with a nap. She could have simply asked him to stay downstairs. He'd have been hurt, sure, but not nearly as hurt as he was now.

Angry, and no longer particularly caring if they noticed him anymore, he got up and pushed his way out of the foliage.

"Alan?" Diana called.

Let her call. She'd hurt him-- he didn't particularly feel, at the moment, that he had any reason to be considerate of her feelings. He shoved his way toward the door.

"Alan, wait!!"

***

Diana caught up with him on the stairs. "What did you hear?" she asked savagely.

"Enough to know you were right, and I was wrong. You are totally cold. It was a mistake for me to think any differently." Alan tried to push past her.

She grabbed his shoulders and fixed him with swirling blue eyes, glowing in the darkness. "What did you hear??" she hissed. "Now!"

Frightened, Alan twisted away, trying to hold onto his righteous anger. "I couldn't understand a damned word of it!" he snarled. "Happy now? Your precious grownup games are safe, the kid didn't hear. Why don't you just put me to bed with my bottle and go back upstairs?"

Diana sighed. "Madonna preserve us from hurt feelings." Normally Alan found it amusingly incongruous, that an immortal mage should swear by the Catholic religion of her youth 500 years ago, but he wasn't in any mood to be amused. Diana took his hand and led him down the stairs. "Why were you eavesdropping, Alan?"

"Why did you put me to sleep?" he countered. "Diana, you could have simply told me you wanted to be alone. I trust you not to plan a human sacrifice behind my back-- Diana, what's wrong?"

She had stiffened at the door to their apartment. Now there was a faint tremor in her voice. "Nothing. I'm just-- all right, I understand, I hurt your feelings. But there are-- important things I needed to talk over with Ward, things regarding his cure, that are too advanced for you. I didn't want you asking questions I couldn't answer."

"You've always answered my questions before," Alan said. "What makes this different?"

"Knowledge can be dangerous," Diana said, but she said it in a small, almost trembling voice, not the pedantic voice she habitually used. Was she crying? Could she be that affected by his hurt? That hardly seemed like her.

"Diana, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Something I said upset you." He thought back. "Was it the comment about human sacrifice? That was really tactless of me, I guess." After all, how did the arcana survive, but by the sacrifice of others' lives? "But I didn't realize it bothered you. You never said--"

"It has nothing to do with anything you said," Diana said sharply, but the tremor was still there. "I just-- I don't feel well. Do you know how many spells I had to perform yesterday, how much energy that drained from me?" Her voice had taken on the hard edge of defensive anger. "I'm just tired, that's all! So could you please leave me alone?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Che Dio mi perdoni!" Diana cried suddenly, and ran for the bathroom. Alan listened, but could hear nothing at all. She must have cast a soundproofing spell.

"Happy now?"

Alan hadn't heard Ward come in, but somehow he was not too startled. Possibly Diana's uncharacteristic behavior had used up his quota of surprise for the night. "What do you mean?" he asked, conscious somehow of vulnerability. In this light, Ward's spindly limbs and mirrored glasses reminded Alan of an insect. "This is between me and Diana."

"You're not one to complain about people being nosy," Ward said. His voice was tired and slow, and Alan had to forcibly remind himself that Ward had taken the heartflower over twenty hours ago. "You must really have some hold on her, if you can make Diana the Ancient show human feeling. How did you get that kind of power?"

Alan frowned. "What do you mean, that kind of power? Do you think I cast a spell on her or something like that?"

Ward shook his head slowly, exhaustedly. Alan could not see his eyes, but had a feeling the man was staring at him with hostility. "Don't be stupid. I know better than that. But if you can make Diana weep.... you have a lot more power than I do."

"We're not rivals," Alan said carefully. "If Diana's your lover or something--"

"Merciful Lord, no!" Ward laughed harshly. "She's an elder. And she feels nothing for anyone. Except maybe you. Probably not even you. But if she does feel for you..."

Ward trailed off and turned on his heel. Alan shouted, "What do you mean? If she feels for me, then what?"

"It could come to war," Ward said, and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Alan ran after him, but the door was stuck, and by the time he got it open Ward was gone. Damn! Alan hated riddles. He wanted to know the answer, he didn't want to have to figure it out.

Why would Diana's caring about Alan lead to war? War between who? A real war, in the outside world? An arcana war? War between Diana and Ward? Alan and Ward? Alan and Diana, for gods' sakes? What did Ward mean?

Diana was asleep, or doing a good imitation of it, when Alan finally went into the bedroom. He got out her spellbooks, carried them into the kitchen, and began studying the protections against sleep charms.

***

It was two days later before he and Diana were awake and together long enough to talk. By unspoken agreement, the subject of the sleep spell and the eavesdropping had been dropped. Alan hadn't even told Diana he was practicing against sleep spells; it would have sounded petulant, like a small child's attempt at revenge.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked.

"Eggs. Scrambled." She sat at the table in the kitchenette, reading Scientific American.

Alan got out the materials. "I've been thinking," he said. "Once you've cured Ward, what's to prevent him from turning us in?"

"It doesn't work like that," Diana said. "In the first place, if you deal with somebody who's sanctioned, the blow falls on you as well. And in the second place, he'll be bonded to me, as he would be to a teacher. A student can't possibly kill his teacher-- the two are bonded, and the teacher can end the student's life at any time. That's how sanctions are usually dealt with."

"But then-- in your case-- don't you have a teacher?" It was bizarre to think of Diana ever being in his position, ever needing someone to teach her, but she had to have learned the disciplines from someone.

Diana looked up at him with a somewhat quizzical expression. "Actually, that's a good question," she said. "My teacher's dead. That happens, to those of us who've been around a long time."

"Aren't you immortal?"

"No. We don't age-- there's a difference. And our magic usually protects us from mundane accidents. My teacher, Petrius, died in a battle with his rival Huo Tian. Of course I killed Huo Tian shortly afterward-- it was my obligation to avenge Petrius, and Huo Tian didn't have any students of his own, so the pendulum of revenge ended with that final swing. This was shortly after I became an arcana, what-- almost 500 years ago. I was Petrius' first student, and Huo Tian made the mistake of thinking I was inconsequential because I was a woman. Well, he never made that mistake again." She laughed softly, sounding for the first time like the old woman she really was, reminiscing. "I did grieve for Petrius, but his death set me free. The intricate systems of control that govern our society no longer applied to me, and I was still too young to have been buried under the weight of tradition. Older arcana don't have anyone to control them, as their teachers usually choose to die after about a thousand years or so, but they'd never dare break from the establishment. Whereas I was young enough to conceive of being a maverick, and free enough to do it. That's the real reason I never became certified as a teacher, although I didn't tell Donald. I'm an elder, but the others don't really trust me. I don't think they'd ever let me wear the ring."

"It must be lonely, being a maverick," he said. "Is that why you agreed to teach me? Besides curiosity."

"Maybe, in a way," she said. She sounded very sad.

"But it hasn't worked out, has it? I mean, either we live under Ward's protection all our lives, or we skulk in the shadows for the rest of eternity. Are the other arcana ever going to get off our backs?"

"Someday," she said, "I had hoped... I would have presented you as a full-fledged arcana, a fait accompli. I don't think they'd have destroyed you then. It's only now that you're vulnerable... But of course, it's now that they caught us."

"They know your habits, your lifestyle," Alan said. "Are you going to give up everything, just for me?"

"I'll think of something," Diana said, playing with a button on her nightgown.

It sounded to Alan almost as if she had thought of something, and didn't want to tell him. "Are you sure you haven't already?" he asked.

"What does that mean?" She looked up at him.

Diana had never lied to him since she became his teacher. "Never mind," he said, not wanting to accuse her of having started. "Diana-- you once said that if I died, you'd be free. What if we faked my death?"

"What then?"

"Send me to another teacher. I'll use a pseudonym or something. The experiment's failed, I think you can see that. I could still be an arcana, and you'd be reinstated. The best of all possible worlds."

Diana was staring at him. "They'd have a matrix lock on your physical form, since you're not strong enough to change bodies... but if I rematrixed... Dio mio, se noi egli possiamo..."

"What?" Alan hated it when she slipped into Italian, as he didn't speak the language.

Diana got up, shaking her head. "That is an interesting idea," she said calmly, "but I really can't discuss it with you now. I have to go talk to Donald about this project." She abandoned her uncooked breakfast, put on her slippers, and left the apartment.

Alan watched her go, with something very close to jealousy gnawing at him. Donald, again.

***

He sat with the spellbooks for several hours, sensing the argument upstairs more with his arcana seventh sense than with his ears. He had no idea what it was about, but hoped Diana was winning.

The door upstairs slammed, and Diana came stalking down. As she entered the apartment, he went to meet her. "Anything wrong?" he asked lightly.

"Shut up," she said savagely, her voice tenser than it had been even on the morning she'd told them they'd been discovered and had to run.

"Diana, what is it? Is Ward going to betray us?"

"Just shut up!!" She grabbed a few spellbooks off the couch, scooped them up and wheeled for the door. "Don't follow me!" she shouted as she slammed the door.

Alan stared after her, almost blinded by a surge of rage. What had he done to deserve this? Her argument was with Ward, not him.

Ward. He was so important that an argument with him destroyed Diana's relationship with Alan. What could possibly be so important? This wasn't any minor quibble over a technical detail, that was certain. And anything that affected Diana this much affected Alan as well. He had a right to know what was going on.

First he spoke the words of a translator spell, so he could understand whatever the language was. Then he placed a sphere of protection about himself, left the apartment, and headed upstairs.

Ward's door blocked out the meanings but not the noise. He could hear screaming and shouting inside, far too close by to risk opening the door. Well, he hadn't trained two years as an arcana for nothing. Diana had told him never to use this spell on calm arcana, because they'd detect it with no trouble. But from the sounds of things, those two wouldn't know it if all the arcana in the universe zeroed their locator spells in on them at once. Alan spoke a spell to eavesdrop.

"You go back on this and I'll personally track you to the Worlds of Darkness!" Ward shouted, close to sobbing.

"I'm not saying I'll renege! Just another year!" Diana raged. "I refuse to kill that boy for your sake while there's another solution!"

Alan froze. That boy?

"In a year I'll be dead!"

"You're exaggerating the situation. You can survive indefinitely at your rate of--"

"Damn you, I'm dying now! I took a client twenty weeks ago and already I need a new one! My next client will be my last, can't you see that? I'm dying!"

"Six months, three months! Long enough to get a new client for you! Donald, I can do it. I just need another person to use as a client prime."

"What happened to the old one? Did he find out? Go back on his consent? Get fried? Or are you in love with him or something? You're going to let me die, for the sake of a mortal!"

"He's not a mortal, he's a student of the arcana and he never truly made the deal. I had no right to offer him to you!"

No – she can’t mean – but she does, doesn’t she. That’s exactly what she means.

"Yeah, but then your life was at stake. Well, let me tell you this! I offered you protection, wasted my energy, for a bona fide deal. You go back on it, and I'll tell everyone where you are! Not only that but that you went back on a deal with a fellow arcana! Not only that but you tried to use someone who hadn't consented as a client prime, on a technicality! Save me now, or God help me I'll destroy you!"

"You'll destroy me? Don't you dare threaten me, child. I've killed far more powerful arcana than you!"

"So? What's my life worth? Is it worth yours, Diana? Are you going to gamble your life that I couldn't get a burst of mindspeech off to my teacher before I died?" There was silence. "Answer me, Elder! Will you gamble your life on my death?"

"And if I save you?" She was much quieter.

She was going to accept, Alan realized. She was going to go on with the deal, and kill him.

Oh God ohgod what am I going to do?

He'd learned that consent was required. The link between arcana and client, that drained the client's life energy at the completion of a bargain, could only be established by voluntary cooperation by both parties. Just like the bond between teacher and student.. "I will obey all my teacher's commandments, with my life forfeit if I disobey..." But what if his teacher commanded that he forfeit his life? What could he do? Diana could kill him anywhere. She'd said so herself, the teacher could always kill the student. It would do no good to run.

If he confronted them with what he knew? They'd kill him. Ward would kill him. He remembered the burning numbness of Ward's protective spell, when they'd first met, remembered Ward's hostility and mention of war. Ward would kill Alan rather than let him live to see Ward die. And Diana? What about Diana?

He heard, as if in a fading dream, Diana agree to kill him for Ward's sake. Then he canceled his spells and went running down the stairs, into the apartment. With a speed born of desperation, he threw clothes into one of the luggage cases. Diana was willing to let him die, to save her own life. Had been all along. She'd been playing with him, lying to him, making him think she loved him despite the obviousness of her callous nature. He hated her for that, and yet... Diana had been arguing for his survival. Did she care about him, Alan, or was it more like a pet that a little girl wanted to keep? Did it even matter, now? If he were a pet to her so be it-- anything to stay alive.

He had grown giddy with the exertion. Now, a bag of necessities thrown together, he leaned against the wall of the bedroom, catching his breath. Then Diana came in.

Alan walked into the living room and stopped her with a hand.

"I didn't bargain with you," he said. "I didn't make a deal, or offer my life in exchange for knowledge. I'm not Faust, and you're not Mephistopheles. I might have given my life to be an arcana, to know what you know, if that had been the price you quoted. But it wasn't, and I didn't, and I'm not your client prime."

She stood looking at him for several seconds, her expression blank. "You listened in," she finally said tonelessly.

Careful, Alan. Better be careful, if you want to live. "Yes," he said.

"Then you don't understand anything," she said. "Alan, I don't need your consent." She walked over and sat down on the couch. "I wear the ring, that's all I need."

His mouth was almost too dry to shape the words. "What ring?"

"There isn't any. It was a metaphor," she said tiredly. "I don't wear a literal ring. Only certified teachers do that. The difference between them and me is that they live off their students, take small quantities of life energy from them always. It's one of the reasons for my power, because I have no one riding on my back, leaching my life into a ring. I have the bond with you, but I take nothing from you." She corrected herself. "Took nothing from you. That's why they were out to kill us-- because you could have been the most powerful arcana that ever lived, and under no one's control, not even mine."

She looked down at the sofa, and began playing with a button. "But I could kill you now as surely as if I wore your life around my finger. I don't need your consent. That's what the plan hinged on. Ward's life is bleeding away, because his soul isn't fully connected to his body. We planned to matrix your body into a replica of the body he was born with, and fix him in it permanently. That would have stopped the energy bleed, and the next time he took a client prime, it would be as a normal arcana. Since you are my student, I didn't need your consent for the plan, the way I would have for an ordinary client."

"Then why are you talking?" he asked, and was ashamed to hear his voice break. "Get it over with, will you?"

"But I'm not going to kill you." She looked up at him. "I thought you realized that."

He expelled a very long breath. "You are heartless, aren't you?"

"You would have preferred to die?" she asked sharply.

"You lie and act and pretend-- it's all a game with you, isn't it? First you play with me, to make me think we'll escape. Then you lie to Ward, and tell him you'll kill me. Then you act like you're about to do it, and then you change your mind again. Why are you playing this cat-and-mouse game, Diana?"

She looked back down at the sofa.

"I trusted you completely, and you would have casually taken my life to reinstate yourself and pay Ward. Now you're equally as casually planning to betray Ward for my sake. Why? What's in it for you? How do you expect to manage it, without Ward turning you in? Or is this just another turn of the screw? Are you doing a thesis on the emotional patterns of mortals and arcana who're close to death?"

"You could take a new teacher," Diana said, almost inaudibly. "I'll tell them that I was pretending to train you, so I could cure Donald. But you died in a car accident, and Donald went back to the Frozen World. It'll be decades, if ever, before they realize the truth. Donald doesn't have many friends, and I can concoct a story for his teacher Marcus."

"But what'll you do about Donald himself? He won't take off to the Frozen World just because you tell him to."

Diana sighed. "You're being dense," she said. "Whose body do you think I'll use to throw them off your trail?"

It took a second to sink in. Then, "You are the most callous individual I've ever met."

"Why do you care?" she asked. "Donald wanted you dead."

"That's not the point. What am I worth to you, that you'll kill one of your own to protect me? How does this fit in your master plan?"

"He threatened me. I can't let him live."

"But why did you provoke the situation in the first place? You could have just done it, and I'd never have suspected you, or been able to stop you even if I had. Ward would've been in your debt for life. Why didn't you kill me?"

Diana stood up. "You never learn to leave well enough alone!" she said angrily. "Always questioning, everything I do. Isn't it enough that you're going to live? Must you ask why?"

"Yes! I trusted you before, took your word and your motives for granted, and you nearly killed me. Why have you decided to let me live?"

"Because I don't want you to die, you idiot!"

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. I never wanted to kill you."

"But you were planning on doing it anyway."

"I had no alternative! There wasn't any other way to solve the problem, I thought-- I didn't realize, not until you told me, that there was another way!"

"That's terribly likely."

"Alan--" She faced him, swallowing. "I care about you."

The frightening thing was that he believed her. Another time, he might have gladly died to hear that. Now, if he let himself pay attention to her, there was a good chance he would die. "I don't believe you," he said again, as if by saying it he could make it true. "You don't care about anything but the pursuit of knowledge. You can't. You're Faust, remember?"

Alan grabbed his bag, walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him. His anger propelled him to the door of the building, which he yanked open as if another second in this building was unbearable to him. But before he could push through the door, something intangible stopped him. Something like an wall he could neither touch nor see, but that he knew was there. He turned, knowing who was blocking him.

Diana stood in the doorway of the apartment. "Do you still want to be an arcana?"

"That's none of your business. Let me go."

"There's a teacher named Mirelda Jones, living as a high school teacher in Poughkeepsie, New York. She's in the phone book. Another maverick, but a certified one. She'll teach you without caring about any of this. Tell her Diana Faust said you need to be awakened as fast as possible, so the other arcana won't be able to track you down and kill you."

Alan looked back at her. He wanted with all his heart to go back, to stay under Diana's protection. But there was Ward-- he doubted Ward was dead yet-- and all those other arcana. And he knew he could never trust Diana again.

"Thanks," he said, not particularly graciously, and shoved his way through the door. The intangible barrier didn't stop him. He was on his own now.

Maybe, if he went to the Jones woman and she made him an arcana, he could find Diana someday. In a hundred years maybe the hurt would be gone.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath, though.

Alan got into the car with his bag and pulled out.

#52 project #arcana (alara rogers)#mages #energy vampires

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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1. What was the last thing you ate, and why? Wingstop because that��s what I wanted for dinner.

2. What was the last thing you drank, and why? Water because I have to get my water intake in.

3. How many tabs do you have open? What are they? I have 7 tabs open currently: my Tumblr dash, my Tumblr likes, Pinterest, 2 different LiveJournal survey blog pages, Facebook, and Google.

4. What browser do you prefer to use? I just use Chrome.

5. What are five random things on your desk besides any computer related items? My “desk” is my bed, but anyway I have Bible study book, a notebook, a pencil case, and 2 cases of colored pencils.

6. What room are you in right now? I’m in my room.

7. What color are the walls and floor in that room? The walls are white and the carpet is tan.

8. Name the item closest to you that is...: -red: A shirt. -orange: Pumpkins on one of my throw pillows. -yellow: The little hat on my Dumbo plushie. -green: My Baby Yoda/Grogu plushie. -blue: The label on my water bottle. -purple: The background of a Reptar bookmark I have hung up on my bulletin board. -pink: One of my notebooks. -white: The letters on my keyboard. -gray: My Dumbo plushie. -brown: The jacket thing on my Baby Yoda/Grogu plushie. -black: Another one of my notebooks. -silver: My laptop. -gold: My giraffe necklace I have hung up nearby.

9. Out of all the things you listed above, which is your favorite? My Baby Yoda Plushie and my laptop. 10. What kind of chair are you sitting in? My wheelchair. 11. Where would you prefer to be right now? I’m good here right now.

12. Do you have any plans this weekend? Nope.

13. Are you excited for anything this month? No.

14. What is the date today? Saturday, January 23, 2021.

15. Is there anything special about today? Nope.

16. How are you physically feeling right now? Tired and kinda hungry.

17. How are you emotionally feeling right now? Blah.

18. Have you ever traveled outside of your home country? Just once. I’d love to do more traveling aboard.

19. Can you speak/read/write in another language besides English? Yeah, some Spanish.

20. What language course did you take in school, if any? I took Spanish all 4 years in high school and one semester in college.

21. What language would you most like to learn? I’d like to be fluent in Spanish.

22. What grade are you in right now? I’m done with school.

23. What would you like to get a degree in? I got my BA in psych.

24. What was your dream job when you were a little kid? I wanted to be a teacher.

25. What happened to that dream? When I was around like 13 I started realizing I wanted to help people. Like seriously, back in those days of AOL there were teen message boards that you could go on and chat about various topics and there was like an advice thread or something and there I was at that age trying to give advice to people. I don’t know how I knew about some of the stuff I knew. I mean, I watched Dr. Phil all the time with my mom haha so maybe I picked up on some stuff. I also read up on stuff online. I was also the friend my friends came to when they needed advice or just someone to talk to. I just liked helping people in any way I could. Then, my freshman year in high school I took a health and psychology class and learned about psychology. I was really interested in it and from then on I decided I wanted to pursue that and learn more.

26. Speaking of dreams, when was the last time you had a sleeping dream and what was it about? I dreamt last night, but I don’t remember what it was about. I typically don’t remember my dreams, they just vanish after I wake up.

27. Do you have more nightmares or good dreams? I generally have random, weird dreams.

28. Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? I don’t even go to bed until like 7 or 8AM... :/

29. Can you sleep comfortably in another bed besides your own? Yeah, usually. 30. What book are you reading? What genre is it? Do you like it so far? I’m reading “Autumn’s Game” by Mary Stone. It’s a mystery and thriller. I am enjoying it, I’m actually almost done. It’s 1 of 3 in a series, so I’ll go on to the next one right after.

31. What genre of books do you like to read? Fiction, Mystery, Thriller, YA, NA.

32. Do you prefer physical books or a Kindle/Nook/other e-reader? I’ve been doing my reading on the Kindle app for the past few years now. I have Kindle Unlimited, so for a small monthly fee I have access to a TON of books. I have read numerous books these past few years alone. I had a list going on my personal Tumblr, I should try and update that but I’d have to add a lot.

33. Did you ever sometimes flip through your text books, even when you didn't need to? Sometimes.

34. What types of magazines do you read? I haven’t read a magazine in years.

35. Have you ever ordered anything through a catalog? Yeah, back when I was a kid they had those Scholastic book catalogs and those catalogs we had got like twice a year that had stuff like nuts, chocolate, and various items you tried to sell to people to raise money for school related stuff.

36. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie/TV show, or play a video game? Depends what I’m in the mood for.

37. What are five of your favorite TV shows? I have a lot of favorites, but 5 of them are: The Mandalorian, Wandavision, Riverdale, Servant, and American Horror Story.

38. How often would you say you watch TV? It’s on a lot of the time for background noise and I’ll tune in and out, but I do have my shows that I actually watch and keep up with as well. So, it really just varies.

39. Do you prefer to watch movies at home or to go out to the theater? Movies I really want to see and am excited about I have to experience in theaters for the first time, it just adds to the experience. Then there are movies that I think look kinda good and I might want to check it out, but I can wait until it’s available to rent or watch on a streaming service.

40. What was the last movie you watched at home? What about at the theater? 27 Dresses the other day. The last movie I saw in theaters was The Invisible Man almost a year ago now. I miss going to the movie theater, my family and I used to go pretty regularly before the pandemic.

41. Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? I always get popcorn, it’s a must.

42. What genre of films do you like the best? Horror, thriller, superhero, action, adventure, fantasy/sci-fi, and romantic comedies. A variety of films.

43. Do you like movies based off of books? Yeah.

44. Do you like video games based off of movies? I haven’t really played any video games based off movies. I do remember having a Harry Potter Playstation game back in the day haha but that’s it. I’m not a big gamer though, so.

45. What was the last video game that you played? Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

46. What genre of video games do you enjoy the most? Mario Bros games, which apparently fall under the “platform” genre. I like adventure, episodic, life simulation (like Animal Crossing and The Sims), and racing games as well.

47. Which is your preferred video game system? I’ve enjoyed my Nintendo Switch a lot. The PS4 is nice, too, I played the Life is Strange games on there.

48. Do you like playing online with other people? No.

49. How often would you say you play video games? I’ve played Animal Crossing quite regularly for the past year and before that I played a few other Switch games. So, the past couple years I’ve played a few but generally I’m not a big gamer.

50. Now that this survey is done, what are you going to do? Find another one to do.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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robotslenderman · 4 years ago

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What the children of my vampire ships would be like if they were human and had babies:

Lettow/Elisa:

Totally asks to sleep with the dog on its bed as a 4YO. Lettow and Elisa shrug and let them.

Grows up covered in mud and dirt from hunting for frogs and worms. Spends half their childhood up a tree.

Grows up knowing how to research and care for exotic animals. Most of their bonding with their parents involves helping them look after injured wildlife or their exotic pets, or being taught about animal medicine.

Is helping their dad fly planes by seven years old.

Almost certainly fell into a bog full of alligators by ten years old. Parents never found out until they happened to mention it as an adult. “You did WHAT?!”

Broken 3 limbs by eleven from falling out of trees.

Has their own eagle at twelve, a rehabilitated one that was unable to be released back into the wild. Thought it was weird that the other middle schoolers thought they were lying because what??? that’s not normal??? and was bullied for a bit for being a “liar.”

When their parents found out about this, Lettow brought the eagles in for a talk on wildlife rehabilitation and the kid was seen as the coolest fucking person in school for a while after that. The bullying abruptly stopped, altho the kid did hide from their classmates sometimes because the popularity was a bit overwhelming for a bit until it died down.

Helping their mother nurse injured juvenile wildlife through the night by fifteen. But only when their parents are overwhelmed and the wildlife has nowhere else to go, such as after major wildfires -- kids need their sleep as much as injured baby animals do!

Applies for a pilot license as soon as they turn 18.

Doesn’t have many human friends from growing up moving around a lot. Very awkward with people unless the subject involves animals.

Totally that drunk person at a college party making friends with people’s pets.

“WTF, my cat hates people, why is she in your LAP?!?” “idk man animals just like me.”

TOTALLY grows up to become a wildlife vet.

Only child; doesn’t have a lot of “quality” time with parents, like just sitting down and talking or watching a movie together, but did spend a lot of time with them. Usually one or both parents were off doing something and brought the kid along, like that time Elisa released young alligators into the wild or Lettow snuck them onto his plane when they were five, or they both had to make a long trip out of state to transfer an animal. The kid was very rarely actually alone.

Had a bit of a lonely childhood due to lack of friends their own age, but doesn’t regret it for a moment because of everything else they got to grow up with.

Olivia/Arturo:

I thought about this for five seconds and noped out

Olivia/Tamika:

Grows up in a loud, raucous house that always has people coming and going.

Fantastic social and negotiation skills

Gets explicit talks on consent and boundaries several times as a kid. Taught how to respect boundaries and enforce their own. Their own boundaries are always respected.

Only child, but a ton of aunts and uncles and cousins. Absolutely not unusual for them to call home going “I’m staying at X’s house” “Cool, call us if you need a pickup tomorrow”

Madeline/Strauss:

(After thinking about it I’m thinking they’re a queerplatonic ship even in VTM)

Total nerd.

Madeline is medicated for schizophrenia, and has brain damage from a car accident which has given her a form of fluent aphasia, and has always been open about it to the kid. Kid grew up with this and is fantastic with people with brain damage and mental disabilities. Befriends the special ed kids and plays with them. Because of Maddy and watching how their father treats her, the kid has never had a problem seeing the disabled kids as anything other than people.

Gets personal homework help and tutoring from their dad every single night

Absolutely doted on, never wanted for love and affection. Very close with both parents. It’s not until well into adulthood that they realise most people don’t have that kind of relationship with their parents.

Has a ton of spooky aunts and uncles who are way too into witchcraft and the occult but as they get older and stop believing in it they just shrug and roll with it.

Has been able to “translate” for their mother since they were a small child.

Very defensive of both their parents; people often think that because they can’t understand Maddy’s form of aphasia it means she isn’t mentally coherent, capable of being an equal partner, or giving consent, and that Strauss is abusing that. So the kid is protective both of their mother’s intelligence and their father’s character.

“Yeah my mum dropped me off at school this morning” “WTF SHE HAS A LICENSE?!?!?!” “Yeah? there’s nothing wrong with her driving” “*Insert ableist rant here*” “... Please leave.”

Other kids have made fun of them for having Maddy as their mother. Maddy laughs with the kids and joins in with their jokes, but also then takes a moment to give the kid a serious talk about it -- she’s okay with them making fun of her, but they must absolutely never make fun of anyone else’s disability.

If the teasing from the kid’s classmate is more malicious, Maddy likes to trip them up with a sudden “yeah, I’m not as dumb as you think I am” when they least expect it.

If another kid at school is kicked out of their home, it’s this kid’s place they end up staying at.

Kid ends up developing schizophrenia at around 20 years old, but aside from the obvious mood symptoms, adjusts relatively well to it because they have Maddy to guide them through it and a good relationship with her.

#VTM for TS #this is blatant self indulgence lmao #(I DON'T EVEN LIKE KIDS I JUST LIKE TO THINK WHAT SHIP KIDS ARE LIKE OKAY)#my OCs

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heythrrdelilah · 5 years ago

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Into the Dark (Sam Winchester x Female! Reader)

Warnings: None for now, however, from the next chapter on, there will be the following; smut, angst, fluff, mature content, and violence (come on it’s supernatural there must be some violence)

Word count: 1,800 even

A little about me since I am new to tumblr: I am 20 years old, from the southeastern part of the United States, going to college with the goal of getting my masters in science of nursing, and married to a Chinese born man. I am new to tumblr, but I have been writing on wattpad for 9 years and have recently discovered AO3. I love to write series, so this will be my first on tumblr but one of many in total. I write for many different fandoms, just be sure to write which one in the request. I will write requests for one shots, imagines, and series. I have been in the supernatural fandom since i was five years old, due to my stepfather (sad excuse of a “man”) who was a fan of Jensen in Smallville and had the need to watch the new (at the time) show that looked badass with Jensen in it. Ever since I have been whipped. I have always been a Sam girl, however sometimes, recently, I catch myself having slight feelings for Dean. I love feedback (good and bad) so i can learn how to improve for your benefit. I hope you enjoy! T

Chapter One:

You wake up from your deep sleep, three loud knocks came from your motel room door. You already know it’s the owner kicking you out at check out. The past few days have been intense and it made you exhausted. You checked the time on your phone, seeing that you were in fact, asleep for 12 hours. It was all made up time from sleep you lost the past few nights hunting the vampires who were murdering a mass amount of people in this small town. Doing it on your own was hard, but you managed to have success in every hunt. The knocks grew louder so you swing your legs off of the bed, shouting to the door, “Yeah Im leaving! Hold your horses!” You shook your head and began packing up, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush, brushing your teeth as you packed to save time. When you slipped on your boots and were about to head out, the motel manager was leaned up against the wall shaking his head. If only he knew that his life could have been one of the many you saved the past few days.

You threw your pink suitcase into the trunk of your ‘67 Volkswagen Beatle and drove off to the diner down the road. You parked the car and sat at the same booth you have been sitting in the past four days. The waiter greeted you with a warm smile, “I heard you solved the case. Just about to head out of town?” She placed a coffee cup in front of you, already knowing what you’ll order. You nod and pull out your laptop, searching for any new leads. You thanked the waiter for searving your coffee, you weren’t much of an eater. You were definitely a foodie when it came to appreciation, you just always managed to not be hungry and forget to eat regularly. You scrolled through news articles from all over the country and found a possible crossroad demon case in Springfield, Missouri. You finished your black coffee, paid the waiter and hopped back into your car, map out in the passenger seat, following directions to Springfield.

Hours later, you pulled into the small town of Springfield, Missouri and checked into a run down motel called the “Sanderson Motel” where you set up your laptop, ready to find more information.

After studying, you changed into your pencil skirt that matched your blue blazer. You were going as an FBI agent, per usual, so you made sure to grab the right wallet with the badge on your way back out to your car.

When you arrived at the scene of the latest body, you walked up to see two FBI agents already there. Just great, you thought to yourself. Now you had to pray these two agents wouldn’t suspect you were a fake. They were both handsome, probably ten or so years older. The taller one really managed to fill out his suit, with his hair tucked behind his ears it made his facial features really stand out. He was talking to a local deputy while the shorter of the two, who wasn’t bad looking either, was looking around the cones. You took a deep breath and walked up to the taller agent and the short plump deputy. You flashed your badge swiftly and began your performance, “I see you have beat me to the scene agent. I can take over from here though. Your supervisor has relieved you from this case.” You confidently moved the attention to the crime scene. “Can you explain in detail what happened here?” You asked the deputy, not giving the agent much time to respond. “Well as I was telling your colleague here, the girl seemed to have been bitten by a dog. I’m still confused why the federal authorities are involved with an animal attack,” The deputy looked as though he was easily intimidated as he nervously pulled at his pockets when he spoke. “Not everything is just as it seems agent. We just want to be extra cautious,” You state, glancing him up and down. You were normally shy, but you couldn’t be when on the case. It was like you were a confident new being.

“Exactly,” Said the taller agent. He arched his brow down at you, “Can you remind me of your name, er, agent?” You nod once, internally standing on thin ice. Afraid one wrong move would expose you. “Agent McCall. Now, The body was taken to the morge already?” You wanted to confirm, mostly changing the topic back to the deputy. “Well gentlemen, I am going to take a look around,” you nod once and began looking around the crime scene. You could not help but to notice the taller agent had pulled the grungy of the two, to the side and were staring at you while talking. You tried to ignore it, not trying to worry yourself anymore than necessarry, but they began to walk towards you.

“There must have been some mix up, Agent McCall, our supervisor strictly put us on this case,” The Scruffy one stated, arching a brow. They were onto you. You knew it. “Well, I guess we will see who solves it first then. You gentlemen contact me if you see anything… out of the ordinary. Okay?” You state, handing them a fake contact card before swiftly walking back to your car. You went back to your motel, wondering mostly about the case, but partially if those agents figured out you were an impersonator. You shook the thought from your head as you changed back into your blue jeans and white long sleeve T-shirt. You threw on your favorite boots to go along with your green cargo jacket. Next stop was the first victims mother.

You pulled up to the driveway of the middle-aged woman’s home, and noticed the black Impala from the crime scene earlier. It was hard to miss. Your eyes wandered to the window of the house. The FBI must actually have been getting better at their jobs lately to already be at the victims home this fast. You thought twice about going up to her door, they could blow your cover, however if you dropped in, you could listen in. You took a deep breath and walked to the door, knocking gently.

“I’m sorry in running behind my colleagues here. I didn’t want you to feel too intimidated by all suits. I know that’s the last thing you need right now. I’m agent McCall, ” You showed your badge before shaking the tall, brunette woman’s hair. She did not look old enough to have a teenage son if you looked at her. The agents looked up at you, slight annoyance gleaming from their eyes.

They nodded, “so nice of you to join us.” The agent with lighter hair grumbled. You made your way to the couch. “Ms. Winfrey, I just want to make sure I’m caught up, have you seen your son, contacting anyone strange lately? By lately I mean, anyone in the last ten years?” This was a normal FBI question that actually helped in the case of a crossroads demon. If it were a serial killer, the mother would think it was a normal question. “As I told your partners, not that I know of. The only person I could think of was an older gentlemen… ” The interview dragged on. The agents had asked some questions that seemed relevant to yours, so it went smoothly.

Outside of the home, the agents did not even think to look at you before hopping into their car and driving off. Maybe they didn’t notice you were a fraud FBI.

Hours had passed and you were watching the Winfrey house from a distance, in case anything happened. That’s when you heard a scream. You pulled the knife from your jacket and the gun from your passenger seat, placing it in your inner, jacket pocket. You stepped out of your car, and in a crouched position, you made your way to the same window you were peaking into earlier,right next to the front door. A man was standing close to Ms. Winfrey, stating what looked like, “we made a deal, time to pay your end.” You kicked ran into the door, but you weren’t the only one. Coming from the back door, you heard a loud crash. The two agents from earlier barreled in, no longer in their suits but casual wear. They were yielding a demon-killing knife, just like yours, and a gun as well. So these were obviously not agents. “You’re a hunter?” The lighter haired one arched a brow. He looked completely lost. You rolled your eyes and stuck your knife into the back of the crossroad demon. He was no longer an issue. He was too amused by the crash, he hadn’t noticed you right behind him. It was an easy kill.

“Now we can have that conversation,” You sighed and stuffed the knife into your boot. You turned your attention to Ms. Winfrey, who was clutching her hand to her heart, taking deep breaths. “What. The. Fuck? "She stated between breaths. ” Who are you people? “ She asked when she calmed herself enough. You walked over to her and shook your head politely, "it doesn’t matter who we are. It matters who he was. That was a crossroads demon. You have had to of sold your soul to him for something. I’m guessing your son did too, along with the other victim. If you never want to see us again… Stay out of trouble.” You swiftly walked out of the house, but not quick enough so the other guys caught you before you steppe inside. “Hunters? ” You ask, arching a brow to the men. They towered over your height. They nod slightly. “You?” The shorter of the two returned, cocking his head slightly to the side. Nodding, you pull the long sleeve shirt you were wearing at the collar, just enough to show your anti-posession tattoo. Not all hunters have them, however, the better ones did. These guys knew that. “I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam. Winchesters,” The shorter one averted his eyes from your collar bone, smirking. “Y/N, I’ve heard of you two. Anyways, thanks for that distraction guys. it really allowed me to kill the crossroads demon a lot faster and easier than planned. I’m heading out in the morning so I am going to sleep. Nice knowing you,” You turned back to your car, making slight eye contact with Sam, the taller one. It sent a slight butterfly feeling to your stomach. What was that? You asked yourself, mentally slapping yourself. You don’t get attracted to anyone. Let alone a giant… moose-like guy you just met.

Next Chapter will be up shortly

#sam x reader #sam x y/n #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #spn #spn fanfiction #spn imagine #sam winchester imagine #Supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series

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electronicdelusionstarlight · 5 years ago

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Anyway, finally the game is stable, and I’ve finally gotten my core followers, time to flesh out what will be hopefully be my Dragonborn for the foreseeable future.

Ayerin the Perplexing.

She’s a Altmer Mage, or at least that’s what she claims to be, Goth-Coded, and I’m gona write her on the Autistic spectrum cause I’m on the spectrum so that’s basically half the work done, and the second she learns she’s a dragonborn she’ll start experimenting on her dragon blood, discovering a way to taint it, strengthen it and her soul so that she’d be able to do the impossible, bear both Molag Bal’s and Hircine’s curses at the same time. The way to do so, however, is still long and distant, and necessitates of a third curse, to balance the two, and allow her to survive both Vampiric and Werewolf transformations, by rendering her mortal if long lived mortal shell, immortal and undead first, before even ascending as a vampire.

She’s a Seeker of the Arcane Arts and a Mage. Her dad is a follower of the old Altmer pantheon, specifically Syrabane, the God of Magic, an Aldmer ancestor who ascended to divinity through his own efforts, and has transmitted to his daughter the same devotion to the so called Apprentice God, whose favor is obtained by the constant and tireless research of magical knowledge. He used to be a lecturer for the Arcane University, but after the war the faculty decided they didn’t exactly need his services anymore. They moved to Bravil, where he became a lowly illusion tutor in the local chapter of the mages guild, his career effectively put to a halt.

Her papa, on the other hand, doesn’t care much for gods. He’s a soldier, a legate for the Imperial Legion, stationed in Cyrodil, or at least he was. He lost a arm during the great war, as he attempted to stop the atrocities the Aldmeri Dominion, their own people, were committing in the Cyrodilian Countryside, missing the siege of the imperial city as a result. He’s bitter and angry, but he’s glad he and his loved ones are still alive as a result, even if they are being ostracized for being different, as if they didn’t just fight a war against people who were ostracizing others for being different from them.

Ayerin grows interested in magic as a result of her dad’s influence. Under the supervision of her dad, she tried to gain access to the Arcane University, but was found too curios, too interested in... forbidden lore and knowledge, even expressing some perplexity over the banning of necromancy, a now time honored tradition of the mage’s guild.

That’s when she gets her moniker. The Perplexing. Or maybe, more fittingly, the Perplexed. Always searching for knowledge she ought not to search, for powers that better be left alone, in all 5 schools of magic, baffling and perplexing her peers as much as their “irrational” reactions baffle and perplex her.

The local politics also confuse her, perplexed over why should wizard start squabbling over petty court politics. She never really understood politics in general really, she took from her Papa that way, everything had always been very straightforward for them, always a black and white issue, no matter how much people tried to paint it otherwise, and she didn’t understand why other people couldn’t see it that way.

It was only logical after all.

Her dreams are weird, black voids with white smoke, filled with still images of people, monsters, beings, objects, a weird voice, probably belonging to a old man, giving her advice, some times good, some times just weird, talking about events before her life, as if he was there, as if he knew who was there, mentioning the gods, and talking about the divines and the daedric princes as if they were old chums... or bitter enemies some times.

It’s weird, but strangely illuminating if she managed to decipher his rants, a constant companion of her nights, and she assumes it must be a Daedra working for Vaermina, or maybe one of her demiprinces, especially given how... weirdly fond he seemed to be of the nightmare mistress when he talked about her, but still, she wasn’t that worried about this, it wasn’t like a major daedric prince had decided to set up camp in her dreams after all, she could handle some minor heckling mixed in with some genuine good advice or history lessons about the history of Cyrodil, surprisingly well done and serious in tone, as if they were 2 completely different persons.

At 25 years of age, abandoning her attempts to join the Mages Guild, she decides to move north, to Skyrim. She has heard of a long forgotten cult, attempting to create a true lich for themselves, and also that the college of Winterhold seemed more open to the prospect of its members researching forbidden lores and crafts, no matter how blasphemous they might seem, and she’s all for that, finally, a place where her genius will be recognized!

So, with her blessing of her Dad and her Papa, sad to see her go but glad she’ll be able to leave the nest and follow her dreams, with enough magical research to allow her to cast at least 2 spells for every school of magic, if still really novice ones, she crosses the border into Skyrim...

And gets captured in an Imperial Ambush.

It’s almost mechanical what happens next, going with the flow as if it has happened countless of times already. She’s almost executed, but a Dragon saves her (Usually, it’s the knight that saves the princess from a dragon, not the other way around).

She flees the fort with the awkward soldier who tried to be nice to her, and failed miserably at doing so. She might have hold against him mistaking her for a Thalmor spy (And she spits on the ground at the thought, startling her new companions as they watch her give her daily prayers to Syrabane), but she always considered herself as a excellent judge of character, and of the two men that offered to help her flee, one was simply running for his life, the other had almost given his life to save a young child from the drgaon’s breath, as most other imperial soldiers were doing at the moment.

Which meant only one of them was noble enough or dumb enough to position himself between her assailants and her sparks, and that was the dumbass thought sending her corpse to a country she had never set foot in would have comforted her in her final moments.

At least he was easy on the eyes.

They leave the fort, she finds some junk, a rusty old ceremonial sword among them, and contemplates just how competent those Stormcloaks actually are if their armor and weaponry consists in some strings of leather and scraps of metal barely held together with spit and hope, she even manages to find some spiffy new robes for her, still no boots tho, forced to wander the place just with some wrappings at her feet. It hurts like hell, but she’d rather wear that than... ugh... light armor, uncomfortable and itchy as it always made her feel.

They flee the fort and he offers her to give her shelter to the near Riverwood, Hadvar’s, that’s the hot dumbass’ name, home town. It’s pretty close, and along the way they find the so called guardian stones, old pendants hidden in the hole within them. She was born under the sign of the mage, so she activates the according stone, but Hadvar mentions that unlike her birthsign, the stones do not bind her to just one sign, much to her befuddlement. She doesn’t press him, noticing his barely veiled... judgement at her choice of stone, and notices a door down the slope the Stones are perched on, embed in the mountain as she leaves, wondering what it must have been.

What follows is a whirlwind, she meets Alvor, Hadvar’s uncle, and finds herself almost stealing all the food he had offered her, starving as she found herself, eating chicken eggs raw and stockpiling potatoes for the incoming trip. She’s supposed to got to Whiterun, warn the local Jarl of the dragon attacks...

Gennarino tells her to go to Falkreath instead. It’s as close as Whiterun, and she needs to find someone there.

Gennarino is her oldest and most devoted friend. A traditional Direnni name according to her Papa when she mentioned him, it also happened to be the name of the assistant of a great Aldmer sorceress, during the war against the Sloads, obsessed with gold, who ended her days living in a remote island, at the foot of a slumbering volcano, her name lost to time.

Gennarino also happened to be a Raven. Her Raven. Who oh so happened to be invisible to anyone but her.

Or, well, almost anyone but her. She was pretty sure other animals could see him just fine, as could some of the kids she used to play with, before she was considered too “weird” to be played with, as well as one (1) drunk Argonian in the Imperial City, green and sad and screaming against the heavens in the rain, complaining about friends dying or disappearing after becoming gods and leaving him behind with all the golds and riches that he’ll never be able to share with them, while also complaining about the loud crow giving him a headache.

Still, invisible Raven, followed her all her life, his advice has always been followed by her, how would she not, he’d always been right, even more so than her, and she might be stubborn and curious but she also know the old stories, the old fairy tales about strange little creatures following strange advice to be followed to the letter, a clear, easy way for the player and the author to justify her sudden detour in the middle of such a important situation.

Anyway, she leaves for Falkreath before long, apologizing to Hadvar and the others, who take it better than she expected, before trying to buy some more spell tomes from the local trader, delighting herself in the sudden new variety in the new land (”Uh, death hound, never heard of that conjuration summon, and what is this? “Lamb of Mara”? Is this a religious spell?”). On the way, she visits the door she spotted, finding alarge, sprawling room, filled with altars to anything but her god.

She pledges herself to be a follower of her own mind, something Syrabane would probable appreciate, before inspecting the other altars. The Hermanus Mora one (Already whispering sweet knowledge to her starved mind, as she resists to its pull... for now) has a variety of books as offerings, among them a spell she had never seen before.

She prays for her god there, and leaves for Falkreath. She finds no trabel along the way, only corpses and a traveling bard, with whom she concludes her journey to Falkreath.

There, she finds Lucien, an Imperial, so easily flustered, so eager to follow her to their death, a fellow seeker of knowledge, as they say. He asks her to become his bodyguard, she who can’t even defend herself, and she accepts, both for the money he’s offering, and for the prospect of her research to gain something from their sudden collaboration...

Also because despite everything she really needed a meat shield. And something tells her that if her crow has told her to go for that one, inexperienced and incompetent as he might seem, there seemed to be a reason for that.

She’s not eager to test this concept, and decides to leave for Whiterun this time, as Lucien also suggests, to warn the Jarl of his impending doom...

Except then Gennarino grabs at her Map, a gift from her dads, that she managed not to lose in the ambush, and tells her to go to Riften instead, where another valuable assets lies. Its very insisting, more so than when he told her to go to Falkreath, so she leaves, resigned, Lucien puzzled at her sudden change of destination midway, and there, finally, meeting Inigo.

Now, they are here, a Mage who has just started her journey into the mysteries of the unknown, a Half Naked Khajiit that mistook her for someone else, a inexperienced “Milk drinker” donning imperial armor in a rebel stronghold filled to the brim with bloodthirsty Stormcloaks (Why, she just witnessed their lot violently suppress a small Imperial assault, barely 4-5 soldier, that’s where she got one of the armors before the city guard stopped her from looting the other corpses by tossing them in the river), her talking, maybe there maybe not crow, cawing at her that now, yes, she can go to Whiterun, finally...

And who knows what their future holds for them?

#Skyrim #Skyrim SE #skyrim mod #inigo the brave #lucien flavius #dragonborn

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 5 years ago

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A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 3

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2 <<< >>> Part 4

MASTERLIST

Despite following her home, Peter hadn’t felt right since that night a week ago, and his mind constantly jumped back to the scene he had witnessed on his way back from his daily beat around Queens.

He kept thinking he could have taken another way, he could have gone home ten, or even five minutes earlier or later, and then he would have missed her. So many little things had factored in the fact that he saw what happened and intervened before it was too late, it made him dizzy to think about it. So many what ifs…

He had seen her again in class, but she looked completely out of it too. She was a diligent student who always completed her work as far as he knew and seeing her zone out and distractedly doodle in her notebook inside of taking notes made his stomach churn. He knew she was shaken up by what happened, as any person would be in her stead, but it felt wrong that she would keep it all bottled up.

It confirmed his guess about her having no real close friend to talk to, and he had half a mind to stand up in the middle of their applied physics tutorial to sit next to her in a show of support. Except it wouldn’t do, because the last time – and the first time – they interacted, she had yelled at him for standing in her way and not even donating his blood.

Honestly, that wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t exactly tell her why he didn’t donate, now could he? Therefore, he stayed where he was, glancing at her every now and then, as if to make sure she hadn’t burst into silent tears or whatever, and barely listened to the tutorial himself.

It wasn’t just in class either, Peter thought about it all the time. He thought about it way too much for someone who didn’t even talk to the girl or have any kind of relationship with her whatsoever. It kept him awake at night; it made him zone out during conversations with Ned; it distracted him to the point where his dog had to whine to get his attention when she needed to go out for a walk.

It reached a point where he simply had to go talk to her, if only to put his own mind at ease and go back to his routine without having her constantly plague his thoughts.

Like right now, for example. A little snap was all it took to make Peter come down from his cloud.

“Tessa! Tessa!” he called after his dog, who was now dashing away and through the campus, quickly disappearing from sight.

He gave a disbelieving look at his hand, still holding the leash. The short leather leash that just snapped a second ago, allowing Tessa to run away like the devil himself was chasing her. It was more likely to have been a squirrel than the devil that got her to run like this, but the result was the same.

“Fuck,” Peter cursed before running after her.

If there weren’t so many people around, he could have caught up quickly, he could have used his powers – but no, Tessa had wanted to go for a walk now. In the middle of the afternoon. She was already so far ahead, his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Tessa!” he shouted, frozen amidst the crowd, looking around with a panicked look on his face.

Emmeline had reasonably good reflexes. Granted, her mind was a bit elsewhere these days and she often caught herself being distracted in situations she should have been paying attention instead. But when she saw a blurry form dash towards her at lightning speed, recognizing it immediately, she jumped into action so quickly her brain didn’t even process what happened.

She had been walking across the lawn to go to her favorite Sushi shop to buy tonight’s dinner, playing with her stress ball because it was the only thing grounding her this week, when it all happened.

Emmeline brought two fingers between her lips and whistled loud enough to get the dog to freeze and look for the source of the sound, then she quickly threw her little ball to get its attention. Its ears perked up and it lurched forward to get the ball, not caring that it was a small moss ball. The idea was to distract the dog so its master could catch up – Emmeline was no stranger to dogs making a run for it and she saw the broken bit of leash still attached to its collar.

It was a beautiful female pitbull with a light gray coat. She approached it slowly, making sure to not alarm the dog who didn’t know her, but she seemed friendly enough and let her into her close vicinity.

“Here, sweetie,” Emmeline purred, trying for a pat.

The young pit immediately sat down and wagged her tail, looking at the girl with big, happy eyes, tongue out, ball in front of her.

“Well, aren’t you a nice girl,” she continued, now giving her ears a good scratch. “Where’s your master? Mmh?” she hummed, unable to stop talking to the animal.

Now kneeling on the ground, Emmeline took the golden medal hanging at the dog’s collar between her fingers. It said ‘Tessa’, and on the back was a phone number.

“Let’s wait a few minutes before I call your master, what do you say?”

Tessa answered with a low woof and then raised a paw, as if asking for a treat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything with me at the moment.” She usually did carry around dog treats in her bag, but not when she was going to buy food. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of treats once we return you to your master. He’ll be so happy to see you again.”

People were starting to look at her weird for kneeling on the grass and cooing at a dog that wasn’t hers, having a full-on conversation with it too. She hadn’t talked this much to anyone in a week now, and it felt good just to not be silent all the time.

“Tessa! Tessa come here!” she suddenly heard someone call from a distance.

Tessa must have heard it too, because she turned her head around, searching for the person calling her name.

“See? Didn’t need to call him.”

Emmeline stayed down, holding Tessa by the collar since her leash had broken off, and waiting for the desperate shouts to come closer.

“Here!” she called, waving her arm to get the boy’s attention when she spotted him. He ran so fast, he was in front of her in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, my gosh, Tessa!” He nearly threw himself on the ground to hold his dog, making Emmeline laugh and finally stand up, dusting off her jeans who were now green at the knees. “Never do that to me again!”

Emmeline said nothing but observed the two being reunited with a fond smile on her face, watching the boy shower his dog with love.

“Thank you so, so much-“ he started, looking up at her with a large smile full of gratitude. Then his smile dropped, and Emmeline frowned a bit too.

It was him.

She could tell he wanted to stand up, but he couldn’t just let go of Tessa what with the absence of leash. A slight blush crept to his cheeks and he looked a little bit to her left, right above her shoulder instead of meeting her eyes.

“S-sorry about her,” he started, stuttering out the first word. “She must have seen a squirrel or something, and this leash is so old, I should have bought a new one ages ago.”

“There’s a veterinarian just round the corner over there,” Emmeline said, not answering his apology. “You can’t go home like this, I’m gonna go see if they have a spare leash, stay here.”

“Wha- wait!” he called after all, still sitting on the ground. “You- you don’t have to- I can-“

“Just stay here,” she told him, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

She strode off as quickly as she could, going straight to the veterinarian. Her own cheeks were burning hot – with embarrassment. It was the boy from the Red Cross donation, the boy she had yelled at and belittled in front of a bunch of other students for no valid reason. Gosh, of course it had to be him, she couldn’t finish this week on a positive note.

She shook her head. No, she couldn’t think like that. This was the perfect chance for her to apologize and make things a little better. It was a good occasion to flip this awful week around. Set her karma straight.

Her feet brought her right outside the office, and she waltzed it like she owned the place. There was a little corner where they sold stuff, and Emmeline grabbed the most expensive leash - the same leash that she had at home, this way at least she knew this one was sturdy – and bought it, removing the tag as she stepped out.

The way back was even shorter, and her legs were a little stiff from the tense power-walk. She was just finishing giving herself a pep talk when she reached Tessa and her master.

He was now full on sitting crossed legged on the grass, giving Tessa belly rubs and letting her play with Emmeline’s stress ball. She would need a new one soon.

“Here you go.” She handed him the leash in a rather stiff manner, cursing herself for being so weird about this. Maybe he hadn’t even recognized her?

Bullshit, he had recognized her the second his eyes had landed on her.

“Oh, thank you. You really didn’t have to-“ he started, clipping the new leash on Tessa’s collar and getting rid of the old one.

“Yes, I did,” Emmeline cut him off, hands in her pockets, staring at her boots. “I’m sorry about last week.”

Peter’s shoulders relaxed and he finally stood up, Tessa by his feet, looking at the girl who had seemed so tough last week. She didn’t need to apologize, but he could see it made her feel better, so he didn’t try to convince her otherwise.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he chuckled a tad awkwardly.

When she looked up and met his eyes, the laughter died in his throat. She had impressively deep eyes, very dark, captivating really. He could feel his face heat up again.

“It was uncalled for. I was upset and took it out on you,” she continued. “And I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t see you again, so…” she trailed off, pouting a little.

“We actually have a few classes together,” Peter told her, earning a startled look. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

She sucked in her cheeks a little bit, staring at the hand he offered her. Just when he thought she was going to ignore him she took it in hers.

“Em,” she simply said. “And I’m also sorry for not realizing we shared classes.”

Could she embarrass herself any more than she already had in front of this boy? He seemed kind, she observed. The little crinkles at the corner of his eyes told her he smiled often. He looked like the kind of person who didn’t have a single mean bone in them.

“That’s okay, I’m very unnoticeable,” Peter teased her in an attempt to get a smile out of her. She had been smiling so bright when she petted Tessa, but her entire face dropped as soon as she stood up and began to talk to him. “Invisible, you could say.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” She shook her head a bit, wishing she was a bit more invisible to the world. “It could be a superpower.”

Peter laughed weirdly, it was a bit forced, but then again, Emmeline wasn’t the most at ease in this conversation, and it might have rubbed off on him.

“A superpower, yeah,” he repeated. “I’ve always wondered if the Invisible Man had to be naked in order to be fully invisible.”

He could have smacked his head into a brick wall for saying that to this pretty girl who had just saved the day. It was their first real conversation, and he was geeking out on her and talking about nakedness. Just the way to a girl’s heart.

But she laughed this time. And she brightened up the same way she had when she cuddled Tessa.

“Solid theory. You can see his glasses and hat after all, it would make sense.” She shrugged.

Peter was so thoroughly dazzled that he did not know what to say in response to that. If he were having this conversation with Ned, he would know exactly what to answer, but this wasn’t Ned at all. This was the girl that had caught his eye a while ago, and who had just saved him from losing Tessa, and she just made a funny remark about a comics character.

“I- euh-“ Peter blushed so hard he had to look at his feet for a second to collect himself. “I’m going to finish this walk and go back to studying,” he blurted out. It wasn’t a lie, but he could have made a bit more time to talk to her before leaving.

“Yeah, sure.” Emmeline nodded a bit too vigorously. “I also have… things… to do.”

She sure had gone a long way downhill since seventh grade when she had won that elocution prize. It was back when she didn’t cuss every other word.

“How much do I owe you for the leash?”

“Nothing.” She brushed it off with a wave of her hand. “Just bought the cheapest one, and I owed you a real apology so… take it.”

Peter wanted to argue but she had a way of just ending the conversation that made it clear she would not take his money even if he shoved it into her wallet directly. She crouched down to say goodbye to Tessa, who licked her hand just as she reached for her chin to give her a few scratches.

“Tessa, c’mon,” Peter groaned. “Sorry about the dog saliva,” he told Emmeline with a sheepish look, his lips brought in a thin line.

“No worries, I’m used to it. I chose the dog owner life,” she laughed, rolling up her sleeve just a bit.

Peter knew that of course, but he had to pretend he did not.

“What kind of dog?”

Emmeline took her time in answering the question, eyes still focused on Tessa.

“Same as you. Female pit. Light brown with just-“ Her finger hovered above Tessa’s left eye to trace a circle. “One white spot here.”

He didn’t say anything else because he couldn’t think about anything other than the way she smiled at Tessa, probably picturing her own dog, eyes full of affection. For a split second, he wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of such a stare.

“Well, I’ll be on my way now,” she told him suddenly, standing up again and meeting his eyes with her intense dark ones. “I’ll keep my eye open in class and… maybe say hi?”

God, Peter would like nothing more than that.

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